Il Mio Amore Scuro
by WritetotheDeath
Summary: [COMPLETED!] When a mysterious stranger intrudes on Christine's life, she finds herself thrown into a mad world of hidden desires and dark emotions. A modernization of our beloved story. Please R&R.
1. Prologue

Okay. First proper full length Phantom fic... hopefully one I won't get stuck on half-way through. Please be nice... but constructive criticism is welcome too. 'Mia Scura Amore' is (I think/hope) Italian for "My Dark Love". If any of my foreign language references need correcting, please tell me.

Disclaimer: I don't own the original characters or story. I'm just re-writing stuff for my own entertainment. And hopefully yours.

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Prologue

I sighed as I stared out of the window.

In my childhood I could remember being thrilled by the passing of clouds and the soft glowing of the sunset in the distance. The way everything would be coloured in soft shades of pink, orange and oyster-grey. How sometimes, when the clouds parted just a little, you could catch glimpses of the small towns and green fields miles and miles below. Such was the magic of the airplane, that it could instil such feelings of wonder in people's hearts.

No quite so for me, I thought. This entire journey was nothing but source of anger for me... a symbol of how my life was being controlled by others who never even paused to ask me what I might want. Not all the beauty of our surroundings, or the cultural excitement of our destination could erase this fact from my mind.

"Christine?"

Turning away from the window, I caught my father's soft, kind gaze. It was nice to know that he was sympathetic of my feelings, but the fact that he had done little about it did not help.

"Buckle up... we're landing."

Glancing up, I saw this was the case, and that the little seatbelt light had been switched on over my head. Resigned, I obeyed it as I had been obeying many instructions these days. Out of a simple lack of any other choice.

Four months ago, my father had approached me with the subject of my immediate future, and that of our little family. He was a violinist... a good one too, if under-appreciated. In England, we had been fairly well off, with the kind contribution from my step-mother, Paula, but knew that my father had been eager to make better use of his talents than being stuck at the back of his section, never getting recognised. So initially, I had been over-joyed to hear that he had got a job in a prominent orchestra, where he could finally display his talents as they should be.

Unfortunately... the orchestra was in Rome.

"Rome!" I remembered saying, sounding a good deal younger than my seventeen years suggested. My initial euphoria at the news had started to waver already. "How are you supposed to work in Rome?"

I know, I know... most people would jump at the chance to live in a country like Italy. Cute guys... good food... culture... But for me, the list of reasons not to go piled up slowly and gradually, until it was teetering like a badly stacked pile of folders, wavering and reading to collapse into chaos at any moment. If what my father was saying was true... we would be moving away from the home I had known for the past six years since my mother's death, the friendships I had made... everything. And my school too. Apparently I would not be going to school in Italy, which, at least, was a relief, since my Italian was practically non-existent beyond saying 'hello' and 'goodbye'. Instead... I was going to be sent to (drum roll, please) boarding school.

I'd never been to boarding school, or anything remotely similar, in my life. It was alien territory for me, which was daunting enough. Not that I usually had trouble making friends, although I would never have classed myself as much of a social butterfly. Perhaps the most infuriating thing about changing schools was that it was in the middle of my final two years of high-school which, in England, is quite frankly, a pain in the arse. It was the most appalling piece of bad timing, since now I had to cope with the strains of fitting in and adapting on top of the wonderful exams that would come in the final year.

When I had attempted to explain this to my father, he had nodded, with a sympathetic smile on his face. He understood that it would be difficult, he told me... but I could hardly expect him to turn down such a great opportunity, could I?

Which was the reason I was on this flight, moving myself, my possessions and my life into the great unknown. How could I possibly hold my father back, after seeing him strive all these years for such an opportunity? Knowing how much it meant to him?

So there was little else I could do but surrender myself to this change and hope beyond hope that things would turn out alright. As much as I wanted my father to live out his dream, I didn't want him to forget that I had my own as well. If my grades fell as a result of this drastic change in our lives, then it might jeopardised my future. Like my father, I wanted to be a musician, although not a violinist. Singing was my passion... one that I put my heart and my soul into, and it was my deepest fear that I would not be able to pursue this passion of mine as a result ofour move to Rome. Of course, my father laughed away the suggestion, saying that he would not allow such a thing to happen, and I knew it. And of course, I did. But that didn't stop me worrying.

Still... I said my goodbyes to friends and home, leaving with promises that we would stay in contact and laughing comments about getting lucky with some hunky Italian.

As the plane touched down, I found myself going down a list of people to contact. It was funny but, when I thought about it, there were actually few people I could really imagine really staying in touch with. Not that our friendships had not been strong... they just did not work over long-distance. But I resolved to try at least. I would need what support I could get from my old friends in order to get through the next few weeks. First, there was the settling in to this new house in Rome which, according to my father, was charming, if slightly eccentric... located close to the 'action' of the city while still being in a reasonably quiet area, with plenty of neighbours. I'd just have to hope these neighbours had a better grasp of English than I had of Italian.

I moved quietly after my father and step-mother, taking a half-hearted interest in our surroundings and the people we moved through customs with. We collected our luggage and made our way through to the Arrivals lounge, where we had the new experience of seeing our family name on a board, being held up by a dark-haired man, with a tidy black moustache and a casual dark-grey suit. Beside him was a taller man, with a clean-shaven face, brown hair, and a much smarter, navy suit. He greeted us with a warm smile.

"Buonasera, Signor Day."

My father came forward, and the two shook hands firmly.

"You must be Mr. Versi," my father said.

"Indeed, signor. Please excuse my poor English..."

"Oh, of course... er..." Here, my father gestured towards me, Paula, and little Joseph, who was being cradled in the arms of yours truly and kept trying to eat my long brown curls. Under the man's scrutinizing gaze, I shifted my six-month-old half-brother in my arms, as if he might provide some kind of shield. "This is my family... my wife, Paula... daughter, Christine... and the little one there is Joseph."

We shook hands in turn, me with some difficulty, what with Joseph in my arms. Once the introductions were finished, we were led out of the airport towards a hired car, into which our luggage, and finally we ourselves, were piled.

On the journey the house, my father and Mr Versi discussed the orchestra for which they both now worked. I tuned out a little, choosing instead to take in the landscape as it passed us by. In the light of dusk, the city looked grey and dull... almost dead. Few people seemed to be out and about, and those that were had a run-down appearance that led me to believe they must be homeless. I could only hope that the city looked much better in day light, or by night.

When we reached the house, I had to go along with the description my father had given me. It was indeed eccentric, both inside and out. Built of white stone, it stood side by side with other, vaguely similar houses, all detached from each other, surrounded by short garden walls at the front and tall hedges at the sides. There were two stories, but once inside I saw that the two floor provided more than sufficient space. There was also, apparently, a basement, the door to which was under the stairs.

As we stepped out of the car, another Italian man, middle-aged with a tired, worried-looking face and black hair flecked with silver, approached us. He was introduced as the representative of the house's owner, and told us (as translated by Mr Versi) that he was delighted that the house would finally have a family moving in. I gave him a courteous nod and smile, but couldn't help noticing, as we followed him inside, the slightly nervous, jumpy attitude of the man. It was disconcerting, but since it was none of my business I tried to ignore the uneasy feeling he inspired inside me.

The true value of the house was probably lost with the clutter of boxes that filled the wooden-panelled corridor. This corridor/hallway, led right down to what appeared to be a kitchen at the back and, one the right and left side respectively, a dining room and lounge. The stairs, also wooden, although there were covered with a soft-looking red carpet, were right there in front of you as soon as you walked in the door. I wanted to rush up them instantly and find out where my room was, no so much out of excitement but out of a desperate desire to start settling myself in before I cracked up. Unfortunately, the worried-looking man had taken it upon himself to give us a tour of the house, and I was obliged to follow him, listening half-heartedly as he talked about how the house had been designed, along with the others along this street, by an eccentric architect, who also oversaw the actual building. We were shown the, admittedly beautiful, stone fireplace... the tasteful layout of the kitchen... and the general style of the house that, I came to realise slowly, was actually very pleasant. More than pleasant really. Everything had been done in white, waiting for us to pick our colours, and I could already imagine the walls being coloured with dark paints... like deep-red, or perhaps a fir-tree green. It would go well with the dark wood and contrast nicely with the white of the framework around some of the doors.

"Can I go and find my room?" I finally asked, when we had been standing in the kitchen talking for fifteen minutes.

"Sure," said my father. Gratefully, I handed Joseph over to Paula and with a smile at everyone, turned and left them. I took the steps two at a time, a habit with stairs that I found impossible to break, and looked down the corridor. Unlike the one below, this corridor was carpeted in the same deep-red material as the stairs. I imagined it would extend into the rooms as well.

After trying a few doors and finding only an airing cupboard and a room that, I assumed, would be the nursery, I found my room, recognising the pine bed that I slept in. Like every other room, mine was painted white, and filled with boxes, all marked with things like "CHRISTINE'S CLOTHES", or "CHRISTINE'S PICTURES". Only a few pieces of furniture apart from the bed had been brought in... my sleek black desk and chair, pine wardrobe, and little vanity unit. But already I could see what I wanted to do with everything. Not wasting a minute, I tore off the masking tape on the box supposedly filled with my pictures, and opened it up.

Sighing and dragging my fingers through my hair in frustration, I looked down at the dozens of newspaper-wrapped frames. Settling in was obviously going to take a little longer than I thought.


	2. Chapter 1

New chapter. Hope you guys enjoy it... give me reviews and/or constructive criticism, pretty please.

Disclaimer: You know what I'm going to say, so I won't bother.

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Chapter 1

The unpacking was left mostly up to me and Paula, since my father had begun his new job pretty much from the moment we set foot in Rome. And obviously little Joseph wasn't capable of lending us his assistance. As a result, my room still contained a few boxes (although most of them were empty by now), and the house in general was little better than a rubbish tip, with toys, clothing and empty boxes scattered around all the rooms.

Any time when I wasn't unpacking I ventured out into the city. At first Paula, Joseph and I would go together, in case we got lost (which we did on one occasion). We went around the markets, which sold everything from food to tacky-looking souvenirs and even ventured into the Ancient Roman ruins and visited some of the famous sites, including St. Peter's Cathedral. In the beaming sun, the glaring, white marble made my eyes and head hurt and it was always a relief to go back to the cool, air-conditioned house.

In spite of myself, I began to feel quite comfortable there.

One Saturday, a week or so after our arrival, my father was invited to a very important reception dinner, partly to welcome his arrival to the orchestra. Obviously, Paula was invited to go with him but she couldn't exactly take Joseph along with her... and the consequence was, I was asked to play baby-sitter.

Not that this bothered me too much. It wasn't as if I had anything better to do... or people to go out with for the night. I wasn't much of a party animal anyway, and rather enjoyed just sitting quietly at home with a good book or, in this case "Italian for Dummies". I was stuck here, so I guessed I might as well get started on learning the language properly, and since my dad had so thoughtfully bought me the book (I still remembered his teasing smile when he handed it to me), it seemed a pity to waste it. So I was currently sitting at my desk, in the swivel chair, reading through a conversation about ordering pizza. I had a pair of headphones on, playing soft piano music. It was quiet enough for me to hear background noises, in case Joseph started crying. He'd been quiet as a mouse so far.

An unexpected sound interrupted the peace. It was the front door. Frowning, I lifted the headphones from my ears and stood up. I could hear the sound of keys locking the door again. I glanced at my watch. My father and Paula weren't due back for at least another two hours... so my first assumption was that they'd come home early. I stepped out of my room and walked up to the railings at the top of the stairs.

"You're back early," I said as I leaned over to look down into the hallway.

I froze.

It was not the faces of my father and step-mother that were turned up to me. Instead, it was only one person who stood in the hallway, and it wasn't even a face that jerked upwards at the sound of my voice. It was a blank-white mask that covered the entire face of the person, except for their eyes and mouth, which was slightly open, as if in surprise. I suspected that our expressions would have mirrored each other in that instant. He (I assumed it was a man) stood tall and straight, an imposing figure in black who did not belong in the bright comfort of the house.

My first impulse was to scream at the intruder, in fear or perhaps to tell him to get out. But before I could even make a sound he was moving, and not backwards and out of the house as I might have expected, or even up the stairs towards me. Instead, he moved quickly down the hallway, deeper into the house. I lost sight of him as he passed beneath me, and at that point I reacted. Looking around me, I ran down the stairs, thinking that I had to somehow get this man out of the house, safely away from me and Joseph. As I reached the ground level, I picked up the cordless phone on the hall table, along with an empty china vase that, I hoped, would prove an effective enough weapon.

Stepping cautiously down the hallway, I noticed instantly that the door to the basement was ajar. It seemed stupid of the intruder to head for the one place where I could corner him, so, quietly as possible, I opened the door and made my way down the steps, holding the vase as steadily as I could. As I went I began punching in a number on the phone. I had no idea what number you called in an emergency here, but dialled 999 anyway, reasoning that at this point anything was worth a try.

When I felt my bare feet on the cold stone of the basement floor, I reached up the darkness and eventually felt the cord of the light against my fingers. I tugged at it, and the single bulb emitted its dim glow around me. I returned the phone to me ear, and heard, to my dismay, the sound of an Italian woman at the other end. And, even worse, it seemed from her droning manner of speaking that it was an automated voice. Certainly not something I could rely on. Stepping towards the centre of the room, I tried to make out any shape in the darkness still present in the corners of the room, but there were none. I kept the phone pressed to my ear, hoping that just maybe the voice would start speaking English.

Suddenly, something caught my eye. Frowning, I stepped towards the far corner of the basement where, curiously, a part of the wall appeared to be slightly askew, as if it had been partially rotated on an axis. In confusion, I lowered the phone and the vase to my side.

Behind me, the light went out, and the sudden descent into pitch darkness was followed by the tinkling of glass on stone. I didn't even have time to turn around before both phone and vase were knocked from my hands, and I was engulfed in a pair of unstoppably powerful arms that pinned both of mine to my sides. I opened my mouth to scream, in the vain hope that I would be heard, but a hand, covered by a leather glove, clamped roughly over it. The only sound was the breaking of the vase as it hit the floor by my feet.

In the darkness I could see nothing as my captor dragged me forward. There was a sound... the scraping of stone against stone, and then my whole body, clad in nothing but sweatpants and a little white vest-top, was enveloped in an icy cold breeze. I shivered and tried to back away, but only succeeded in pressing myself against the man who held me in that merciless grip.

My captor strode on into that coldness, and I found myself being half-dragged, half-carried with him. I tried to struggle, but his grip on me only tightened painfully, until I could feel the bruising rise on my flesh. He actually did lift me bodily at some point, carrying down what felt like a long flight of stone steps. When we reached the bottom I was once again set on my feet and was dragged onward. In desperation I tried to make out our surroundings, but all I could make out was that the corridor was stone, and the only reason I knew this was because I kept scraping my arms on the walls, and stubbing my toes on the uneven ground. I could feel a warm wetness dripping down left arm, which I had bumped painfully as we went around a corner. But I refused to cry out, or even allow my tears to fall.

Finally, I saw light up ahead. Dim, flickering light, but still welcomed light. We moved towards it, and eventually emerged into a circular chamber, lit by torches. It was as if we had descended into some kind of medieval dungeon. All that was missing was the the prisoners in chains hanging from the stone walls.

I was flung against one wall, jarring my shoulder and causing all my other sore limbs further pain. As I slid to the ground, I clasped my elbow, gritting my teeth against the stinging pain and trying to stop the flow of blood that dripped on the dusty floor. When I looked up, the man who had dragged me down here was pacing up and down the chamber with all the ferocity of a wild animal in a cage. His whole body radiated a kind of angry power, that I knew would be dangerous to mess with. I knew I had no hope of overpowering him... when he dragged me down here his strength had been frightening, in spite of his lean frame.

Looking around, I noticed that there were several other openings in the chamber, leading into dark corridors and felt a tiny surge of hope that I might be able to escape down one of them. Even if I got lost, at least I wouldn't be the prisoner of this man. Besides, the moment I tried to rise to my feet, he turned on me, the flickering light from the torches casting eerie shadows across the mask, giving it an almost skull-like appearance. I froze when I looked down and saw a knife clutched in one gloved hand. The glinting blade was pointed directly at me.

In a warning tone, the man said something to me in Italian that I could not understand. In spite of the incredibly menacing tone he used, I couldn't help noticing the rich sound of his voice, the effortless beauty with which he spoke. The Italian accent only added to the sensual nature of the sound he produced. But it still sounded threatening enough to make me crouch back against the wall, wary of making the slightest movement in case I found that blade pressed against my throat.

Once he saw that I was suitably intimidated, the man went back to pacing. He was talking angrily to himself, but in such a low voice I couldn't even distinguish the words. Feeling my breath coming in ragged gasps, I resigned myself to waiting, either for him to make up his mind about what to do with me, or for an opportunity to escape.

Unfortunately, the former happened first.

He turned on me suddenly and addressed me in Italian again. When I only frowned at him in confusion, he took a step closer, raising the knife menacingly, and repeated himself in a low voice. In desperation, I resorted to one of the few phrases I knew.

"Parla inglese?"

For a moment there was silence, and then, to my surprise and relief, the knife was lowered a fraction.

"So, you're English, are you?"

I looked up at him in astonishment. As relieved as I was that he spoke English, I would never have expected him to sound so... fluent. In fact, I was tempted to believe he was English himself but for an incredibly subtle accent that convinced me otherwise. And when he spoke in my own language, the beauty of his voice was even clearer to me, almost to the point where it frightened me, although that might just have been the current situation I found myself in.

Eventually I nodded in reply, swallowing the bile collecting in my throat.

"And perhaps you would like to explain what exactly you were doing in that house?"

My confusion intensified. "Well... it's my house," I said. "My family's house, anyway."

He laughed coldly. "'Your house'?" I nodded again. He uttered a loud curse and began pacing the room again, if possible with even angrier steps than before. I watched him, and listened in astonishment as he spoke to himself, this time in English.

"... I gave strict instructions... that untrustworthy bastard... _mon dieu..."_

'Mon dieu'? Wasn't that...

"You're French?" I asked before I could stop myself.

He stopped his pacing to give me a cold stare from behind the mask. In the depths of his eyes I could see the flicker of the fire lending them an almost supernatural appearance. I averted my gaze, realising this wasn't the best time for discussions about nationality. After a few seconds, he began pacing again, still talking quietly to himself. I listened intently to his words, now that I could understand them. From what I could gather, he had given instructions that no house was to be sold without his express permission. Supposedly he had some kind of say in the matter, and I couldn't help wondering if this was the 'eccentric' architect that Mr Versi had mentioned when we first arrived. It would certainly explain a lot.

"Now..." he said, in a clearer voice that was plainly intended for me to hear. "I have the problem of what to do with you."

I felt my heart do an unhealthy little jump. The tone of his voice was... wrong.

When I didn't respond, he went on speaking. He had stopped pacing and was now staring at me, eerily calm and collected. "The options I have... none of them seem particularly appropriate. I could keep you down here... but the idea of playing gaoler to a teenage girl is not particularly appealing. I could," and here he began to play thoughtfully with the blade in his hands, "dispose of you here and now... but that would be such an inconvenience..."

I swallowed audibly. Anyone who referred to the 'disposal' of another person as a mere inconvenience couldn't be all there. The word 'eccentric' was starting to sound a little too mild to describe this man.

"You could just let me go," I suggested in as reasonable a voice as I could manage.

He laughed, loudly and genuinely... as if I had just told the funniest joke in the world. My heart sank even further.

"Well... that is not really a viable option either. How can I guarantee that you will keep your mouth closed about what has happened here?"

"I could give you my word," I said, though without much conviction.

There was no laugh this time. He only stared at me, and it was as if the temperature in that little chamber had suddenly dropped about ten degrees. "Your word means nothing to me." His voice was so icy it made me shiver and I had to look away from him again. I was beginning to despair of what would become of me in this hell-hole. Was I going to be killed and left to rot? Would I disappear off the face of the earth, leaving behind my family, who would never know what had happened to me? I hated to think of the pain it would cause my father... who had been devastated when my mother had died, almost to the point of suicide.

"Then... what_ are_ you going to do with me?" I asked, and I could hear the despair in every single word. Perhaps my captor heard it too, because he tilted his head to one side, eyeing me curiously. The mask obscured his expression from me almost completely, and I didn't dare hope he might be looking at me pityingly. As I watched, he folded his arms carefully across his chest, the hand holding the knife raised up so that the glittering blade rested against his bottom lip.

"Perhaps," he said quietly, "there is a way... to ensure you will not reveal anything."

A little candle of hope lit up inside of me. "There is?"

He nodded, and at the same time a little smile began to play across his exposed mouth. But rather than giving me comfort, the expression made me tremble inwardly.

"It's amazing what people will do... or not do, when given the proper incentive."

Already I could see what he was implying. The malicious gleam in his eyes was more than enough, but also, as he was speaking, he had begun to twist and turn the knife in his gloved fingers once again, as if he ached to stick it in something... or someone. I felt a sick feeling in my stomach begin to grow rapidly as I imagined that knife gliding smoothly across my throat...

"I think you understand my meaning. Don't you."

It wasn't a real question, and I nodded without even having to consider. The situation was plain as could be: if I talked I was dead. And right now I didn't doubt that this man was perfectly capable of doing such a thing. I could feel tears pricking at my eyes and tried desperately to hold them back. My head was lowered to the ground in a gesture of defeat, since I knew there was no other way to get out of this situation other than agreeing to go along with this man's demands.

Abruptly, a found myself taken by the arm and pulled to my feet. I felt weak and numb all over from what was happening, so I almost fell back down to the ground instantly. But I collected myself together and followed behind the masked man, who kept a tight grip on my arm as he pulled me down one of the dark corridors, presumably the one that would take us back up to the basement of our house. My mind was still trying to adjust to what exactly was happening. It didn't seem real... it was impossible that I was being dragged around underneath the city of Rome, in what looked like some ancient, undiscovered catacombs, by a masked man who was threatening to kill me. The whole thing was too surreal.

I fell behind a little too far, and the grip on my arm tightened as I was pulled a little more roughly forward.

"Keep up," he told me bluntly. I obeyed like a mindless zombie. Anything to get out of this pitch blackness.

Eventually I was pulled up some stairs, which comforted me only because it meant we were close to our destination. I had to bend down slightly to feel for each step as he ascended, trying unsuccessfully not to catch my already damaged toes on the stone. By contrast, the man who led me seemed none the worse for moving about in the dark. He didn't even seemed to care that I couldn't see my hand in front of my face, and took the stairs swiftly, pulling me along behind him.

When we arrived at the top, I heard once again the scraping of stone against stone. Beyond the opening I saw a faint light where the basement door had been left open. I was pushed unceremoniously in its direction.

"Good bye," said the soft voice behind me. "And don't forget..."

The voice trailed off, leaving the unspoken threat hanging in the air. I felt a breeze of cold air against my back and heard the stone moving back into position behind me. After a few seconds of silence, I finally allowed my trembling to overtake me, and I bent down on my knees, fighting to keep myself from being sick. Two tears escaped and dripped down my face, but I didn't allow myself to sob. Instead I drew a shuddering breath and began pushing myself to my feet. As I did, I felt my fingers brush against a piece of broken china.

Miserably, I reached into the darkness and tried to pick up the shattered pieces.

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Erik's first appearance. He's a little dark and not very nice at the moment, but that's the way it goes (for now). Hope you enjoyed.


	3. Chapter 2

New chapter... thank you everyone for their reviews. I've just recovering from a bad case of the sniffles, so a few more for this new chapter would really make me feel better. Hint hint, lol. Hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: Tra la la... we all know what this is... fa la la. Moving on...

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Chapter 2

Over the next week I struggled to maintain some kind of normal approach to reality. But my world had been severely shaken by what happened... by my dangerous encounter with that masked man. No one knew what was wrong and, thankfully, I was able to pass off my unusually distracted behaviour as the result of homesickness... culture shock... nerves... my excuses where endless.

I was not foolish enough to believe that I could get away with telling my family, or anyone, about what had happened. As much as I hated to admit it, I was scared witless by the idea of what might happened if I did take that risk. And it wasn't just for me that I was scared. This man had, in my mind, displayed a completely casual view to the killing (or as he called it 'disposal') of people. I could not guarantee that I would be the only person to suffer if I were to tell someone. What if he decided to target my family? My father... Paula... even little Joseph? No... even the thought of taking that risk made me feel physically sick. Instead, I resolved to forget about the whole incident and get on with my life... grateful that at least I still had it.

Easier said than done, of course. An incident like that doesn't exactly just slip your mind. And also I couldn't help being overcome by the constant suspicion that I was being closely watched. It might have been paranoia. Certainly I was much jumpier now, reaching for the nearest heavy object whenever I heard the front door open... but I still couldn't quell the worry that I was being followed.

About a week or so after the incident, barely enough time for me to even begin getting over what had happened, I was helping Paula prepare dinner when my father came in from his work, looking pale and more than a little shaken. He immediately sat down at the little kitchen table, putting his head in his hands.

"What's wrong, honey?" Paula asked, beating me to the question.

He shook his head before raising it. "Oh... it's terrible. Do you remember the gentleman who sold us the house? The man who met us when we arrived?"

"Mr Versi?" I asked, frowning.

"No, no... the other man. He showed us around." For a second I couldn't quite place who he was referring to, until my memory jogged and I remembered the worried-looking face of the Italian gentleman we had met, briefly, two weeks ago. I nodded along with Paula. "Mr Versi just told me... terrible thing... apparently he was found washed up on the river bank just a few miles from here. The police say he committed suicide."

There was a gasp from Paula, more out of courtesy, I suspected, than genuine anguish since none of us, apart from my father, had actually had much contact with the man. But me... as my mind began to tick over this information I felt the blood draining slowly from my face, and my heart began a harsh, erratic rhythm in my chest. I was already playing the conversation I had had only a week ago with the masked stranger who had come into our house. He had said something about not having permission to sell the house... called someone a 'treacherous bastard'.

Already I was convincing myself that that man had something to do with it. Why would someone just commit suicide like that?

"Do they know why?" I heard Paula asking.

"No... not really. Apparently he'd been very depressed recently. Nervous... jumpy. And then he didn't come to work on Monday."

I listened with ever increasing dread as my father recounted how Mr Versi, who had been a friend of the man who had 'committed suicide', had tried to get in contact with him, and failed. Apparently he hadn't been to work all week, and now they knew why... Or at least, they thought they knew why. I had a horrible feeling that I knew the true reason for everything. I felt sick. As quickly as possible I excused myself from the room and went upstairs. Once I was safely inside my own bedroom, I let out my pent up emotions in an violent, disgusted groan.

It horrified me... sickened me, that someone could do such a monstrous act simply over something so seemingly petty as not asking permission for something. Okay... maybe selling a house was not a trivial matter, but it was certainly nothing to commit murder over, was it? In spite of myself, I was filled with a strong desire to confront the man behind this. I couldn't just let him get away with that, could I? An overwhelming sense of responsibility filled me... as if I could have done something to stop this terrible thing from ever happening. Well, that was laughable. There was nothing I could have done... not without endangering myself and possibly my whole family.

But still... I couldn't let it go.

And that's why, the next day, when my father and Paula had gone out into the city together, I went down into the cellar in search of that little opening that would take me to the labyrinth of passageways I had been dragged through last week. With a slight grimace I remembered the bruises I had acquired down there, some of which were still present on my body. I had had to be very careful to conceal these from everyone, since I couldn't find a convenient excuse for their presence. I still had an ugly scab on my elbow from where I had grazed it especially badly.

But when I found the general area where I guessed the opening had been, I found nothing. No sticking out lever to pull, no funny button to press. It was just a wall. It even felt like a wall. There was absolutely nothing to distinguish the grey stones from the rest that made up the walls of the basement. They didn't even sound hollow when I rapped my knuckles (painfully) against them.

"Hey!" I shouted against them, feeling incredibly stupid for trying this hopeless way of contacting the man who (I assumed) lived down there. It was disturbing to think this was the case. After all, why would someone do such a thing? For all its initial excitement, living in what was basically an underground ruin was not exactly a great lifestyle. What would drive someone down there?

And then I remembered... the mask. Could that be...? No. The idea was ridiculous. The mask was probably nothing more than a means to conceal his identity. A part of his so-called 'eccentric' personality. If he wanted to live underground like a mole and hide his face from the rest of the world then that was his decision. But it did not make him exempt from basic human morality, and I was damned if I was going to just let him think he could get away with something like that.

So I waited. After calling out again several times I resigned myself to simply sitting down beside that little section of false wall and waiting to see if he would emerge. Obviously he used this house as a means of entering and leaving the normal world, so he must use it at some point. Even if he did use other passageways, he would undoubtedly come here, I reasoned. He would want to make sure that I was still frightened into silence. I was actually surprised that he hadn't yet paid me a little visit, or left me some threatening reminder of the consequences of spilling what I knew to anyone. It was only the horrible, paranoid sense of being constantly watched that had convinced me to remain silent.

Three days and there was nothing. Every spare minute when I was alone in the house I would go and sit in the basement, usually with a book, to wait for any sign that the masked man knew I was looking out for him. I wasn't entirely sure that he even knew what I was doing, but my stubborn righteousness only grew over the days, along with my frustration.

So, one evening, when my father was working late and Paula was out with some friends she had already made in the past few weeks, mostly the wives of other members of the orchestra my father played with, I sat with my back to the wall and my eyes drooping shut. I hadn't been sleeping too well, given recent events, and in the poor light from the bulb above my head (which I had replaced after last week to avoid any questions) my eyes were getting sore and heavy. My head kept dropping down against my chest. The little walkie-talkie machine in my lap, intended to let me hear if Joseph started fussing, had been silent all night. I was just about to resign myself completely to sleep, when a chill came over my entire body. I huddled up tighter, pulling my knees into my chest. Then a shadow blocked out the light above me.

Thinking that maybe my father or Paula had found me down here, I opened my eyes, ready to improvise some excuse for sitting in the basement, but my voice caught in my throat. Standing over me, as tall and imposing as I remembered, was the black silhouette of the masked man. I could only faintly make out his masked face in the light, but I knew it was him.

"Three days," he said, slowly and deliberately. "Three days you keep this vigil at my doorstep. I'm not certain whether I should be annoyed or impressed by this display of stubbornness."

For a few seconds I was unable to think of anything to say in response. After waiting for this opportunity for three days, the fact that he had decided to show himself had wiped my mind of anything I had initially intended to say. He must have mistaken this moment of speechlessness for arrogant silence because he then asked, in a decidedly more irascible tone; "Perhaps you'd care to explain this quite curious behaviour, Miss Day?"

I started at his use of my family name, wondering how he might have found out, but I recovered quickly, remembering what my purpose in seeking him out was. Unable to think of any other way to approach the matter, I resorted to bluntness.

"I know what you did."

The mask hid his expression from me, but when I spoke his voice was filled with mocking, false innocence. "Now whatever can you mean by that?"

His scornful attitude did nothing to quell my sense of righteous anger and, in spite of the danger of angering him, I went on. "The man who sold us this house... everyone says he committed suicide..."

The man gave a graceful but dismissive shrug. "What of it?"

"I know you had something to do with it."

At this more direct accusation, he put his hand over his heart in a theatrical gesture of hurt feelings and, when he spoke, he was infuriatingly sarcastic. "Oh now, what could make you think such a terrible thing?"

I struggled to my feet now, angry and indignant. Even standing, the man was far taller than me. I guessed he was well over six-foot, and I was barely five-foot six. But I wasn't going to let him intimidate me. "You threatened _me_, didn't you?" I pointed out. "And I know you were angry about him selling the house."

"Your evidence is unchallengeable," he sneered at me, then gave yet another nonchalant shrug. "Can I help it if someone wishes to end their own life?"

I glared at him. "I know you had something to do with it," I repeated.

"I can see I've already been tried and condemned in your eyes," he commented. "But I still fail to see your point in making this accusation."

Now I hesitated again. What exactly had I hoped to achieve by this? It wasn't as if this changed anything. He was still responsible for the death of that man and apparently none the worse as far as his conscience was concerned. What was I thinking I would do? Slap him on the wrist and tell him not to do it again? So far all I'd succeeded in doing was making him irritated as well as giving him an opportunity to laugh at me.

He seemed to sense this, because he suddenly chuckled softly. "You don't seriously mean that you sought me out simply to give me a sermon on morality?" The chuckle grew into a full-blooded laugh, albeit one that sent chills up my spine. But it did reawaken my reckless indignation.

"Well someone had to," I snapped. "Someone had to tell you that it was wrong."

The amusement faded and died in his eyes and I realized that I might have gone too far with that last comment. I could sense the tension radiating from his body, and I would have taken a precautionary step away if my back hadn't already been up against the wall.

"I don't think you are in any position to question my actions... or my morals, Miss Day," he said. His voice was perfectly level, but I could hear the rigid control he was exerting, no doubt the only thing holding him back from killing me right there. I suppose he had a point... maybe I didn't have the right to question his actions, but that didn't make him right. I might have said this out loud, but I knew I couldn't risk it, unless I wanted my family to return home to find me dead.

"Maybe not," I acceded, hoping that he might calm down a little, "but I still had to say it."

"Would it have burdened your precious conscience?" he asked snidely and I could see the sneer on his lips.

"Certainly more than it seems to burden yours," I retorted before I could bite back the comment. I think I surprised him with this principled declaration. For a moment there was a deathly quiet between the two of us, and in that instant I thought he really would strike out, like a cornered rattlesnake, and I would be done for. But before he could do anything I heard the sound of a door opening somewhere above us, and then a voice calling out.

"Hello? I'm home!"

It was Paula. I saw the masked man stiffen andhalf turn towards the stairs. Knowing that ifmy step-mothercame down and discovered us there the consequences would be unthinkable, I dashed past him and quickly bounded up the stairs. I turned briefly to see him still standing there and without saying a word I reached out and tugged the little cord. He was swallowed in darkness, and finally I spoke up.

"I'm down here," I shouted as I continued, more slowly, up the rest of the stairs and finally emerged into the bright hallway. Shutting the door firmly behind me, I gave Paula a smile.

"What were you doing down there?" she asked, with one eyebrow raised.

"Just looking for something," I replied as casually as possible. She gave a shrug in response, and asked me how Joseph was. "Fine," I said, looking down at the walkie-talkie that was still clutched in my hands. I passed it to her and then headed back upstairs to my room.

Well... I had done what I set out to do. What it had achieved, I didn't really know, but I did feel a little better for having said that what the masked man had done was wrong. I had, however, angered him. Perhaps the only reason I was still alive was the rather convenient timing on Paula's return. It was scary to think of how close he might have been to stabbing a knife into my stomach, or throttling me with his bare hands. All I could hope now was that this would be our last encounter. Hopefully I could put this whole matter out of my head now and move on with my life.

This, as it turned out, proved to be a lot easier as the days went past. Not so much because the memory was leaving me, but more the fact that preparations were now being made for me to return to England and the potential nightmare that would be boarding school, something that pretty much cleared my mind of every other problem. I had never been to boarding school, and had little to no idea of what it would be like. Before catching the plane to Rome I had gone to my future school and, although it looked wonderful, I couldn't help feeling intimidated by its size and by the people. And obviously I worried about making new friends.

One comfort I did manage to reap from the idea of leaving for England was that I might escape the masked man, whose presence seemed all about me. Whenever I felt a break in my rushed schedule of preparation, I would be overwhelmed by the certainty that I was being watched. At least in England I would be free of that. I might be able to relax completely for even a few moments.

So my days were spent mostly by packing my belongings or going out into the city to fetch things that I would require. Any spare moment I had I tried to distract myself from thoughts about what was to come. I immersed myself in my favourite past-times, reading, writing in my diary, but particularly my music. At my previous school, my music teacher had made me a few cassettes of her playing various warm up exercises and songs which I could then take home and practice with. So now, whenever I was alone in the house I would slip in one of the cassettes and walk slowly up and down the length of my room with the music sheets held in my hands.

Mostly I sang opera... classic arias from _The Magic Flute_, _La Boheme _and, in keeping with my Italian surroundings, Verdi's _Otello_. But my taste varied, and sometimes I sang West End musicals, some more spiritual pieces such as _Panis Angelicus_... anything that happened to turn up on the tapes I played.

I preferred practising alone. It wasn't anything to do with being shy, although like most people I got the butterflies when I was about to perform. It was just... I found it easier that way. Just like I found walking about the room helped me get into the song. Often I'd find myself making emphatic gestures towards the ceiling and various items of furniture while I sang. Even though I had heard that the best opera singers didn't need to move about on stage to hold the rapt attention of the audience, I found the emotions came more naturally this way and I reasoned that this was only practice.

As the last days approached, however, I found that even music didn't calm me down. I grew more restless and agitated about going back to England, almost to the point where I wanted to refuse to go. The only reasons I didn't do this because I didn't want to make things difficult for my father and also it would be a relief to escape Italy, where the weather was scorching, I couldn't understand the people and I was haunted by the memory of a certain masked man.

I was beginning to think there was nowhere for me to escape to.


	4. Chapter 3

This chapter took awhile to get up on here because I've been without internet access for the past week or so. Don't worry... I haven't lost inspiration. Enjoy the new chapter.

Disclaimer: Disclaimed.

* * *

Chapter 3

Two days left.

By this time I was almost feeling physically sick. I knew I was being silly... and that I had to be a grown up about this, for my father's sake if not for my own sanity. But I couldn't help feeling horribly worried that bad things were going to happen.

Feeling restless, I went out wandering into the city. I had gotten over the initial excitement of being in Rome after a week or two, and now the beautiful architecture, for all its magnificence, just wasn't as distractingly awe-inspiring as I needed it to be. Nevertheless, I went out, and spent an entire afternoon looking around the little local markets, where I kept being bombarded with offers from the dark-skinned Italians in charge of the stalls.

I envied them. They seemed none the worse for the scorching summer heat. Being used to the milder English weather, I had to make every attempt possible to keep cool. My hair, thick and long, was pinned up at the back of my head to keep it off my neck, and my clothes were light and airy. But I still found myself seeking the shade whenever possible, and I constantly had to fight off waves of dizziness brought on by the heat.

In the end, after buying nothing except some ripe, delicious-looking plums from one of the stalls, I decided to go back home. If Paula had gone out then maybe I could practice some more music. I quite felt like singing something lively to get this restlessness out of my system.

Putting my key in the door, I stepped inside into the luxuriously cool house. I let out a sigh of relief and rubbed the film of sweat that had collected at the base of my neck. Maybe I'd have a shower first to help cool down. From the atmosphere in the house I guessed Paula was gone, although there was no note on the front table. I shrugged and headed up the stairs, taking a plum out of the bag and sinking my teeth into the soft flesh. I let out a murmur of appreciation to the world in general as the sweet, succulent juices flowed over my tongue.

I took another bite as I opened the door to my bedroom, and nearly swallowed and choked on the stone inside.

"Good afternoon, ma chere."

He sitting there. Sitting in _my _chair, at _my_ desk and gazing casually back at me as if it was his room and _I_ was the intruder. The white mask was still in place, covering everything except for his mouth, the corner of which was pulled up in a smile that was almost mischievous. He leant back, his arms resting either side of him, and his legs crossed. He seemed very much at home, and I quaked at the thought of how long he might have been there and what exactly he might have been doing as he waited (I presumed) for my return.

"You seem a little surprised to see me."

Finally I got my voice back. "Is there any reason why I shouldn't be?"

The smile broadened a little. "I suppose this visit was a little unexpected," he conceded, swivelling the chair around a little so he could pick something up off my desk. He opened up the little dark-blue book and began to flick through it.

It took me a few seconds to register exactly what he was doing, and then I promptly crossed the room and snatched my diary out of his hands before retreating back to the opposite wall, close to the door in case a quick escape was necessary. He watched me quietly for a moment, then gave a careless shrug. He then picked up something else from the desk, but this time I didn't feel quite the same instinctive need to take it from him. It was actually the prospectus for the school I would be leaving for the day after tomorrow.

"This new school of yours seems an interesting place," he remarked, still casual as could be.

"Get out," I said, trying to make my voice as commanding as possible.

"Now why would I do that?"

I decided to bluff. Anything was worth a try at this point. "My step-mother's downstairs."

To my dismay, he only smiled and raised an admonitory finger at me. Then, with considerable smugness, he produced from his coat pocket a small slip of white paper and read: "'Christine... Have gone out with Joseph to see a friend. Will be back around 6:00. Paula.'"

I bit my lip on hearing this, but at least he didn't seem angry about the lie. He held out the piece of paper to me and, taking a few tentative steps forward, I plucked it from his long fingers, which were still covered by those black leather gloves. Reading the note, I recognised the handwriting and gave a resigned sigh.

"Alright. What do you want?" I asked, a little more rudely than was probably wise.

Another casual shrug. "I thought you might appreciate some company."

I had to fight the urge to scoff at that particular comment. If I wanted company of any kind it certainly wouldn't be his, after all. I gave him a sardonic look. "What do you_ really_ want?"

He returned the look with infuriating calm. "Well... _Christine_." He pronounced my name with such smug satisfaction I wanted to hit him. All that stopped me was an undertone in his voice that I couldn't place... as if there was more to his enjoyment of knowing my name. "I couldn't help noticing how restless you've been recently."

So he had been watching me then. Well... at least now I knew it wasn't just paranoia. "So?" I asked, hoping that this conversation wasn't going to go where I thought it was.

There was a slight pause as he gave me a long, steady look. "I wondered if you thought perhaps you might escape me by running back off to England."

I kept my face straight, but inwardly I winced. I would be lying if I said that I hadn't hoped to, as he said, 'escape' by going back to England, but it wasn't as if I had much choice in the matter anyway. And what was he going to do about it anyway?

"It's not like I asked for it," I said a little sulkily.

"Indeed." he said, his head tilting slightly in a display of curiosity. I didn't answer... just tried to return his stare as levelly as I could. For a minute or two we had a little competition of who would give way first and say something.

I lost.

"I have to go to boarding school," I said irritably. "I don't know enough Italian to go to school here and it's not like I can go back and forth from England every day."

"Clearly." He treated me to another long, analytical stare. "You certainly don't seem too thrilled by the idea."

"Duh."

The sarcastic and very immature sound came out of my mouth before I could stop it, and I saw instantly that I had angered him. The hand that had been turning the page of the booklet in his lap stiffened, and the one that rested on the arm of the chair clenched into a tight fist. Nervously, I hugged my diary tighter against my chest and waited to see what he would say or do next.

Mercifully, he seemed to establish control of himself and the tension in his body dissipated a little, although when he spoke his voice sounded a little colder.

"I hope you realise that this doesn't change anything."

I did. Well... sort of. Things would change a little. I might not be in any danger from him, being hundreds of miles away, but I would be stupid to think that there was no threat remaining. My family would still be here... very much within his reach. Putting them in danger would be unthinkable.

"Yes, I know."

He looked up at me again. I don't know if my acceptance of the situation had surprised him. If it had, he certainly did a good job of hiding it.

"You will not speak a word," he went on and I merely nodded dutifully in reply. The hopelessness of my situation... my utter impotence when it came to ensuring the safety of myself and most importantly my family, made me sick with anger and misery.

"It's good to see that you've decided to be sensible about this," he said, interrupting my despairing thoughts. His tone wasn't exactly condescending, but it still grated on my already ragged nerves.

"It's not like I have much choice," I remarked bitterly. For some reason, talking about my situation to this masked man brought out all my underlying resentment. It wasn't just about his threats... it was about how my life had been messed up for the benefit of other people. Not that I blamed my father for coming out here. I loved him... I wanted the best for him. But a tiny, selfish part of me hated what was happening to my life as a result.

There was a long silence, while I stared at the carpet and fought to keep myself from making an even bigger scene than the one we already had going on. I could feel him watching me, no doubt considering my angry resignation to what was happening. I knew I couldn't meet his gaze. If I did and I saw that calm, analytic look in his eyes, I knew I would start to break down.

The sound of him rising from the chair caught my attention and I glanced up briefly.

"Since you seem to charmingly accepting of the matter, I think I'd better be on my way."

I nodded, and once again averted my eyes from his as he approached. At first I began to tremble, thinking he had some intention... some new reminder of the threat he posed to me and my family. I felt my heart crashing against my ribs, until he swept past me and out of the door beside me.

Silence fell, and I was about to allow my body to sag in relief when something touched my arm. I jumped and turned to see that my unexpected visitor had reappeared in the door-frame, his masked face looking down at me from that lofty height. His gloved fingertips were barely touching the bare skin of my upper arm, and the sensation made me shiver involuntarily. I stared up at him. Now that he was so close I was able to take in the finer details of what little he allowed the world to see; hair so black it seemed unreal, a mouth that, I now realised, was slightly twisted and shrivelled... as if this man did not eat enough and eyes that were shadowed by the mask, but I now saw were an unusual yet beautiful blue-grey... like storm clouds hanging over mountains.

"Whatever worries you might have about what will happen," he said, in a voice so soft it was almost a whisper, "they are groundless. With a talent such as yours... you have nothing to fear."

It took a few minutes for his words to sink in. Was he actually reassuring me? Reassuring _and _complimenting me? I wasn't sure which I should be more surprised and confused by. This man had gone from threatening the safety of myself and my family to offering me encouragement and commending me on my 'talent'. All I could do was stare up at him, my mouth slightly open in bewilderment before replying with the only response that I could think of.

"Thank you."

With the barest trace of a nod, he disappeared from the door, his fingertips leaving a strange tingling sensation behind as they lost contact with my arm. Another shiver coursed through my body, bringing me back to reality a little. I realised that I had tears in my eyes and quickly drove my knuckles against the closed lids to prevent them from falling. Taking a few deep, ragged breaths I bent down and retrieved my bag of plums from the floor, as well as the half-eaten one that had dropped from my hand in those first few moments of shock.

When everything was picked up and I had returned my diary to its proper place, I leant against my desk, staring own at the music sheets and cassettes that lay on the surface.

For some reason, I no longer felt like singing.

* * *

"Stop fidgeting, Christine... you're making _me_ nervous!"

"Sorry."

Well, I couldn't argue with that. I was being extremely jittery. But you couldn't really blame me for that. We were in the car, heading for the airport and I felt like my head was going to explode, there were so many conflicting thoughts inside it.

The last twenty-four hours had been a nightmare of panicking and last minute checking of all my luggage. I still wasn't sure I'd got everything I would need... not sure I was ready to go... but here I was, about to get on a plane to a completely different part of my life, one that I was expected to confront almost entirely by myself. I knew that the only contact I would have with my family would be weekly phone calls. I would be coming home for the half-term holiday, but even with that brief period of time, I still wouldn't see my father, Paula or little Joseph for about two months. It was the longest time I had ever been away from them, and it wasn't as if I could go home for a weekend if things got rough.

That was a scary thought... knowing that I would basically have to handle this whole thing by myself.

We finally pulled into the airport and pulled my two bags out of the trunk. I checked in, got my boarding pass, and headed for the customs desk. Just outside I stopped, since the others couldn't come any further.

"You know what gate your heading for?" my father asked.

"Yep."

"Your passport ready?"

"Yes."

"Got phone numbers in case there's a problem?"

"_Dad_."

He smiled at me. "Just want to make sure."

"Yes... but you're not helping my nerves."

Another smile, and then I stepped forward and put my arms tightly around him. He gave me a big, long squeeze, stroking the back of my head reassuringly. A lump rose in my throat as I thought of how long it would before I saw him again, or gave him a hug. Finally I pulled back, giving him a final kiss on the cheek. Then I gave Paula a peck on the cheek too, smiling and feeling the sting in the corners of my eyes.

Paula and I got on well, not having the usual relationship of step mother and daughter, where she went out of her way to ingratiate herself towards me and I simply hated her guts. I admit to being sceptical of her at first, but after seeing the positive effect she had on my father, I had accepted her, and later Joseph, into my life. I understood how my father needed someone to love him in the way Paula did, and I was too delighted by the prospect of having a little brother to feel in any way usurped by Joseph's presence. I looked down at my baby brother and smiled. "Bye bye you little monster," I said, tickling his chest until he gave me a gorgeous little smile.

Then I stepped away from the three of them, adjusting the strap on my backpack and forcing a brave smile on my face. Then I turned and headed for the customs desk, clutching my passport in my pale, sweaty hands. I made it through without any fuss and turned to wave a final goodbye to the little gathering of people. My father waved... Paula waved, and then took Joseph's hand and waved it for him.

I smiled and then took a step in the direction of the departure gate when something caught my eye. It was only a brief flicker of movement, beyond the picture-perfect family standing together. A shape, disappearing as a crowd of people walked past. I took a few steps, and then looked again. But the person, whoever it might have been, was no longer there.

I shook my head and began walking quickly away.

It couldn't possibly have been...


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Even the shortest amount of time on a plane can make you feel as though you need a shower. After more than two hours on that plane, I would have killed for one.

I collected my baggage, piling it onto a trolley and pushing it through the automatic doors into the Arrivals area. _Nothing like a little manual labour to add to an already serious BO problem_, I thought to myself. Pushing my hair back from my eyes and giving a theatrical sigh, I scanned the crowd. I had been told that someone from the school would meet me. How they would recognise me, I didn't know, and I didn't see a board with my name on it anywhere.

For a second I had a mental image of myself, stranded alone at Heathrow Airport. Then I saw a figure waving in my general direction. Looking around, just in case they were signalling to someone near me, I headed towards the young girl who, as I drew closer, began to look very familiar.

"Christine!"

I pulled up short, looked the blonde girl up and down, then smiled in recognition.

"Meg!"

Meg Grayson was the girl who had shown me around the school on my visit earlier in the summer. From memory, she had been very friendly and upbeat, perhaps a little too giggly sometimes, but the kind of girl it was impossible to dislike. I realised that she had told me how she also lived abroad. Her father was in the army, and had been posted out in Germany for the past two years. But seeing her here was a little unexpected.

"I didn't know you'd be here," I said as I followed her, pushing my trolley along towards the exit.

"You're not the only one who lives abroad, you know," she said, laughing. I had to concede the point. Since it was primarily a boarding I was now attending, it stood to reason that at least some of the students would live overseas. Why else would they be boarders?

Meg led me outside. It was dusk, the darkening sky was filled with rain clouds, and there was a wonderfully cool atmosphere that told me it had been raining quite recently. We made our way to the open parking lot, where a minibus with the school's name and emblem on the side was waiting. The driver picked up my bags and placed them on top of the pile at the back of the bus. When I climbed I was greeted by at least seven other students who smiled and were made to introduce themselves by Meg.

Apparently I was the last person to be collected, because once Meg and I were seated the driver started up the engine and we moved away from the terminal. I watched the bright lights of the other cars and buses go past in the darkness beyond my window. It was relieving, in a way, to be back in England, where I recognised my surroundings and understood what people said.

Beside me, Meg chatted away about school and classes, and I listened with half an ear to everything. Eventually, however, I said I was going to rest. The journey had worn me out and I wanted to catch a little sleep before we got back to the school, which was at least two hours drive away. Thankfully, she smiled understandingly and nodded. So I fixed my earphones over my head, and let Beethoven's _Pastoral Symphony_ lull me into a peaceful place between sleeping and waking.

I was woken by Meg shaking me.

"Wakey wakey," she said, grinning. I gave a drowsy groan and looked out my window. We were still moving, but through what looked like a suburban area. Dark trees and fields could be seen between the buildings, most of which appeared to be ordinary houses. But then we passed a few that looked more... well, school-like. Big, red stone buildings with dozens of small windows, or sometimes just a few big long ones.

"Those are the boys' dorms," Meg said, pointing. Peering out of the window I found I could make out silhouettes behind the drawn curtains in the windows. I knew that, thankfully, I would be getting my own room. It was a privilege for Seniors.

We stopped outside the boys' dorms to let them unload their things before moving on to the girls' building, which looked almost exactly the same in the darkness. The few of us remaining piled out of the minibus and, with the help of the driver, got our things down. I slung one bag over my shoulder and dragged one along behind me on its two wheels. My whole body was aching, my little rest on the journey seeming to have only made me feel worse. At the door, one of the girls with us punched in a code and a little green light appeared on the keypad, allowing us inside.

Inside was a small lobby, with a little wooden staircase leading up to the next level and a large billboard against one wall with notices tacked all over it. One of these told us where our bedrooms where and I trailed my finger down the list until I came to my own name, and the room number: 5. Of course I had no idea where that was, but Meg quickly pointed me in the right direction. It was on the ground level, at the very end of the corridor. We parted ways, as Meg had a room on the level above, and I dragged my things along, negotiating the corridor, which was already a considerable mess, with some difficulty. I guessed it was all beginning of the year clutter, with everyone trying to sort their rooms out and get unpacked.

"3... 4... here we are," I said to myself. Using my elbow, I pushed the handle down and then nudged the door open with my shoulder.

Inside, I was glad to see that the room didn't look too bad. It did seem a bit institutional, just a square room with bright yellow walls, very drab curtains, and no furniture other than a desk, plastic chair, bed and wardrobe, which didn't leave much space in the rest of the room. But there were no bars on the windows, although when I tried to open them they could only be opened a few inches, no doubt to stop the room's occupant making a daring midnight escape.

_Shame_, I thought with a sardonic grin.

Setting my two big bags down, I pulled my mobile phone out of my pocket. The thing didn't work in Italy, but I switched it on, knowing that my father would probably try and call me soon, to check that I had arrived safely. Setting it down on the desk, I began unpacking my things. I didn't intend on doing it all tonight, I was too tired. But I did need to get out a few essentials.

I changed quickly into my sweatpants and t-shirt before making up my bed with the duvet and pillows the school provided. I was just about to grab my towel and go in search of the bathroom when my phone began ringing. I answered on the second beep.

"Hello?"

"Hi, sweetheart."

I smiled with relief at the sound of my father's voice. "Hiya."

"Made it okay, did you?"

"Yep. All in one piece... no hassle."

"What are you up to now?" he asked.

"Just unpacking," I told him casually, trying to ignore the feeling of homesickness that was quickly building in the pit of my stomach.

"Great. Did you meet anyone?"

"I saw Meg... but right now I think I'll just go to bed. I'm too tired to be friendly."

My father chuckled down the phone. "Alright then, honey. I'll leave you to it."

A lump rose in my throat. I actually would have liked to talk to my father for longer, in spite of my tiredness. But I knew this phone call would be pretty expensive and so I reluctantly let him go, and we hung up. I stared sadly at the phone in my hand, then tried to get a grip on myself. Quietly I went to the bathroom just down the hall, got cleaned up and then returned to my room, climbing into bed and snuggling down under the covers, trying to block my ears to the loud pop music that was coming from the next room and fighting back miserable sobs.

When I finally did sleep, it was to dream about standing in the ruins of my school and my home and hearing nothing expect a dull roar in my ears, the echo of an explosion that had deafened me. When I tried to call out for help no sound came out until I knelt down among the scorched stone and blackened wood, and cried noiselessly into my hands.

* * *

I was woken by the violent ringing of a bell just outside my door. I raised my head and looked about me. The faintest of light was coming from behind my curtains, and when I checked my watch I noted that it was 7:00AM. With a groan I pulled the covers back over my head. I had checked the schedule for the dorms... you got a warning bell at 7:00, and then another at 7:30 to summon everyone to breakfast and a roll-call. I had about fifteen minutes to just lie in bed, and I did just that, not feeling particularly motivated to go anywhere or do anything, but aware that I would have to. 

Finally I dragged myself out from under the sheets and got dressed in the school uniform, which looked more like a business suit to me, with a navy, jacket and knee-length skirt. I tweaked the collar of my white shirt, then quickly put on a little make-up to get rid of the tired bags under my eyes.

The bell rang again, and I heard people moving out of their rooms into the corridor. I joined them, smiling at the few people who greeted me.

Roll-call was taken, and I answered to my name through a mouthful of cereal, the only thing I could manage with my nerves as they were. Meg was there, and introduced me to all the other seniors who were there. Most of them looked friendly enough, although one girl, named Charlotte, raised her eyebrows when Meg mentioned I would be taking music.

"You're a musician, are you?" she asked, in a slightly condescending tone, pushing her luxuriously thick auburn hair back from her face.

"Yes," I said, feeling slightly in the spotlight under her gaze. "Singing mostly."

"Really?" she asked, her expression growing ever more disdainful.

"Really," I said with an air of finality. I was not prepared to be intimidated by this girl who, even from first appearances, seemed to be a bit of a snob. I didn't want to pick a fight by challenging her tone of voice either, so I ignored her for the rest of breakfast and kept my eyes fixed down in my bowl of cereal.

"Don't mind her," Meg said as we were heading towards the main assembly room. "She's probably just worried about you being competition."

"Competition?"

"Yeah... she's all high and mighty about her voice. I mean... she's good. Really good... but she's such a little..." She trailed off, pulling a face that made her point clear enough.

"The 'this town ain't big enough for the both of us' type?" I said in my best cowboy voice.

Meg laughed aloud. "Exactly."

Well, that wasn't good. One thing I didn't need right now was a catty little bitch who looked for enemies everywhere she went. I wasn't going to let her stop me from doing my best in singing... just because she couldn't stand the idea of being bumped off whatever pedestal she had erected for herself. That wasn't why I'd come here, after all.

_Not that I wanted to come here in the first place_, I thought bitterly to myself.

The assembly hall was a massive building that looked more like a auditorium. The headmaster, who gave a small speech to us all, stood up on a large stage, surrounded by red curtains and hangings. It looked very professional, with scaffolding showing at the back along with various backdrops and furniture obviously used in plays. A large black piano stood off to one side, and I couldn't help feeling excited at the thought of performing on that stage. I just hoped I would get the opportunity.

Once assembly was over, Meg had to rush off to meet a teacher... to hand in some holiday work, she said. Unfortunately, she left before I had the opportunity to ask where the English room was. It was my first lesson, and as I watched the mass of students surge out onto the campus, moving in all directions, I began to feel incredibly lost.

Glancing around, I spotted an elderly looking gentleman that I assumed was a teacher. He looked reasonably harmless, and so I approached him, my class schedule in one hand. A few minutes of direction giving and pointing later, I was reasonably confident I could make it to the room without getting more lost than I already was and, thanking the teacher, dashed off.

I was late, which wasn't the best start to my time at the school, and did little to ingratiate my presence with the elderly teacher, who gave me a disdainful look as I entered, apologising profusely.

"How nice of you to join us, Miss..." he consulted a register, "Day."

"I'm sorry, sir," I said again, wishing desperately that he would let me sit down so I didn't have to experience the sensation of being watched and giggled at by every other student in the room. Finally he gestured to one of the empty desks, going to various cupboards lining the walls of the room and extracting several books, which he then deposited in front of me.

"These are the books you will be requiring for this years syllabus."

I stared at the pile of books. _Fabulous_, I thought to myself. Already I could see that there were several texts which I had not been required to read at my last school. Obviously I had a little catching up to do.

"With me you will be studying Joseph Conrad's _Heart of Darkness_," the teacher went on, "along with T.S. Eliott's _The Wasteland_, which will make up your coursework. And once that's out of the way we'll be looking through First World War poetry and literature, if you see me after class I'll give you a list of reading material. Any questions?"

"Yes," I said, slightly puzzled. "Don't we have to do more? I thought we had to do a Shakespeare play."

"Indeed you do," the teacher said, ignoring the slight titter of laughter that came from the students. "But not in my class. Now... if you'll open your Conrad, we'll start looking through..."

Outwardly I did as he instructed, but on the inside I was panicking just a little. I had two English teachers? How much work would we actually be doing here? And what would it be exactly? Knowing my luck, more stuff I didn't have the first clue about. World War Poetry I could deal with... but I had no idea about the story we were now reading through, or the piece that was supposed to go with it for our coursework.

There was a tap on my elbow. I turned to look at the young man next to me. He was grinning in a way I assumed was meant to be encouraging, but I couldn't help being slightly disturbed because, as I stared back at him, with his soft-looking, light blonde hair and rich brown eyes, I was overcome by a sense of familiarity (not to mention the sudden appearance of butterflies in my stomach).

"Don't panic," he whispered when the teacher's back was turned.

"Easier said than done," I muttered back, but smiling in return. "Who's the other teacher?"

"Mr. Finch. He's not as bad as Atkinson, though."

Atkinson, I assumed, was the teacher we were confronted with now. I glanced at him, to check he was still distracted by whatever he was writing up on the whiteboard.

"I'd hate to think he was worse."

The guy stifled a laugh, and then we both had to straighten up and pay attention, although I did feel slightly heartened by the fact that it wasn't only me who thought the teacher was a bit of a gargoyle, even from first appearances. But throughout the lesson I kept stealing little sideways glances at him and, by the time the lesson was finished, I was so certain I knew him I was determined to ask him directly.

As we filed out of the classroom, I tugged at his elbow.

"Hello again," I said, smiling and hoping I wasn't betraying my embarrassment.

"Hello again," he echoed with the same grin.

"Look... do I know you?" I asked, resorting to bluntness once again in my nervousness. He gave me a quizzical look, his admittedly gorgeous face wrinkled in concentration. "I know it's a weird question," I went on, "I just got the funny feeling..."

"Like we've met before?" he broke in suddenly. "Yeah... I thought that when Atkinson said your name was Day. What's your first name?"

"Christine. What's yours?"

The smile of recognition had already lit up his face. "Richard Carlson," he said with a hint of relish.

As soon as he said the name I had it. Suddenly I was besieged by a rush of bitter-sweet memories from years ago. Bitter because they reflected a time when my mother had still been alive, and we had been living up in the vast countryside that made up The Lake District... a place I still missed desperately. But sweet too, because I realised that the young man in front of me was none other than the little trouble-maker who, at eleven years, had taken me out on Lake Windermere in a rowing boat, in the rain, made mudslides with me in his back garden and whose family often joined mine on summer holidays down in Cornwall. Richard Carlson had been my childhood friend and (I felt myself blush even admitting it to myself) secret crush. He had been sweet and good-looking even then, although I had never declared, my feelings for him, let alone acted on them. We had been far too young for that.

So it was strange to see him standing there before me, probably just shy of eighteen years, and looking more appealing than ever. The fact that he recognised me in return was unbelievable.

"Oh my god," was all I could think of to say at first.

He laughed. "My thoughts exactly. I can't believe it... it's been how long? Six years?"

"Yeah," I agreed, unable to keep the smile from stretching almost painfully across my face.

It would have been nice to have spoken with him for a little longer, but at that precise moment the bell for the next lesson rang. I had a free class, but Richard was rushing off to a Drama class. I grinned, remembering how he had always wanted to act when we were kids, and often insisted I help him set up mini adaptations of plays and films in our garden, where I played every woman character and he played every male. Promising to catch up with me later he hurried away, with a backwards glance at me as he went.

Well, that little reunion certainly elevated my mood for the rest of the day. Even an encounter with the girl I had met at breakfast, Charlotte, didn't manage to bring me down later that day. We, unfortunately, had Music together. It was a relatively small class, but the teacher was friendly but firm. I could feel her genuine passion for music right from the offset, and that made me certain that, even with Charlotte and her suspicious glares, I would enjoy myself in these lessons. After establishing what kind of musician I was, she resolved to get us started on the syllabus which, thankfully, was quite flexible. We were sent off to various practice rooms, the music department being a completely separate building and therefore having lots of little rooms, some of which were already occupied by part-time teaching staff giving lessons in various musical instruments.

I found an unoccupied room and went inside. Charlotte took the next room along, studiously ignoring me. Well, at least she hadn't yet resorted to catty remarks. Maybe we could just ignore each other for the whole year and not have any nasty disagreements. I did pause once during my own practice to listen to the faint sound of her voice through the wall. She was a soprano like me, and I had to admit that she was pretty good as far as the technicalities of the music went. It was obvious she had received a lot of training over the years... good training. If I was in a position to criticise her then I might have said that she didn't really convey the emotions of the piece, which was the spirited _Je Veux Vivre_, from _Romeo et Juliette_. She just sang it... she didn't _feel_ it.

Halfway through the practice, the teacher came in to listen to me, saying she wanted to know what I had to offer them all. Nodding, I passed her some music sheets and saw her give an approving nod at seeing _The Jewel Song_ from Gounod's _Faust._ She went straight into the introduction, and I sang the opening trill confidently, trying not to let my eyes linger on the woman's face to see her reaction. I gave it my all, since that was what she asked for and as the final chords were played, she turned a very impressed smile to me that instantly had me blushing.

"Well... you've certainly got it, Christine," she said. I ducked my head shyly. "And don't look so modest. If you've got it, flaunt it, as they say."

I giggled, and then she calmly told me about singing in concerts and the school choir, which met every Thursday afternoon after school and sang every Sunday in the school chapel. Apparently I was required to join, as a music student, but I pointed out that I probably would have joined anyway. Any activity that involved singing was a definite plus for me.

At the end of the lesson I left the building, but didn't miss the sharp look that came from Charlotte as I walked past her. I just kept my head down and ignored her, telling myself that at least the teacher thought I was good, and hopefully I would have a chance to perform while I was here.

I had nothing else to do that afternoon, but I received a very welcome visit from Richard, wanting to have a little catch up session. We went on a walk around the campus, reminiscing about our childhood and finding out what had happened to each other after me and my father moved away. He told me that his family had moved down to London, but because he hated the idea of living in a cramped city all the time they had sent him to boarding school here, where he was now (to their dismay) hoping to hone his acting skills.

I gave him the heavily edited version of the past six years... telling him about Paula, Joseph and finally the move to Rome that summer.

"That must be weird," he said thoughtfully. "I mean... Rome's amazing, but it must be pretty hard for you."

I thought of my encounter with that masked man, who had threatened my family and killed another man. "You have no idea."

He didn't pick up on my slightly ominous tone, or if he did he assumed I was being melodramatic. We spent at least two hours talking before he had to leave for rugby practice. As I watched him go, I marvelled at how easy it had been to talk to him, almost as if we had never been away from each other. He was so easy-going and charming, just like I remembered, with that cheeky sense of humour ever-present in his expression.

As the day drew to a close and I found myself getting ready for bed once again, I was beginning t convince myself that perhaps life in this new school would not be so bad after all. I had Meg... Richard... and I had music. What more could I ask for?

I climbed into bed and sank back against the pillows.

_In two weeks,_ I told myself, _I'll be wondering what all the fuss was about.

* * *

_

No Erik in this chapter... sorry. Hope Richard is a good enough substitute. (What am I saying?)


	6. Chapter 5

I'm not sure what to make of this chapter. I just hope it all fits together okay. Please review... I love getting reviews.

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Chapter 5

If only my newfound optimism could have lasted.

By the time I had been there for two weeks I was screaming inside. 'What goes up must come down'... and that's precisely what happened to my good feelings about coming to that school. Oh sure... it was good to see Richard every day and I had Meg. But it wasn't the social side of my life that I was making me want to rip my hair out by the roots. It was the pressure... endless, suffocating pressure from my teachers. The milestone of work I was given to do seemed to pile up and before the week was out I was considering committing hara-kiri rather than subject myself to the long haul of what was, I knew, only the beginning of my troubles.

I had my second pile of English work given to me the second day of school, along with History work from two of my other teachers. Yes... to my joy I found out that I had two History teachers as well, each one with their own separate part of the syllabus. The worst part of this was that it was completely different to the syllabus I had begun with, so in order to have any chance of passing the exams at the end of the year I would have to do about two years of study in just one. And there was nothing I could do about it.

I talked to Richard. He was sympathetic, but in the end there was nothing he could do about it either, except to offer me help with my English. I was grateful, but I could see what was coming. I felt like I was heading straight for a brick wall that would be impossible for me to ever get around or over. I would crash into it and just be in utter ruins... my whole future would be over.

Even my Music classes began to tell on me. Not because of trouble with the work, or lack of enjoyment. It was Charlotte who began to make life miserable for me. She never came out and said things to my face, but she would throw me glances all the time... hateful little looks that, at first, I ignored. I had thought she would stop after a few days of getting no reaction from me. But instead she only upped the psychological bullying by whispering to her friends and giggling when I was nearby. My state of paranoia, which wasn't too great anyway these days, worsened as a result. Suddenly almost every time someone laughed near me I was getting suspicious that it was me their humour was directed at. Even though a sensible part of me said this was ridiculous, I couldn't help it... and it was driving me over the edge.

But I couldn't do anything. As much as I wanted to confide in my father, who called me at the weekends to check up on me, but our conversations were so short, given the expense, that I never found an suitable opportunity and, even if I had, I probably wouldn't have taken it. It would make things complicated... and I didn't want to do that. My father had a wonderful opportunity... I couldn't live with myself if I ruined it for him.

So I had to persevere. I had to live through it.

I dropped my head into my hands.

_But it's so hard,_ I thought miserably.

I had just finished talking to my father, and there was a terrible constricting feeling in my chest, like someone had taken my heart in their hand and was slowly, mercilessly squeezing it to the point where I thought it would burst. I breathed harshly for a few seconds, and wiped the tears that had managed to escape down my cheeks. I didn't want to be reduced to an hysterical wreck. I had to just suck it down and learn to deal.

Sniffing loudly and trying to shake off my urge to burst into tears, I straightened my back and picked up the pen I had set down next to the miniature mountain range of books that I had arranged around my desk. Reminding myself that I needed to get myself more organised if I was ever going to keep on top of my work, I bent my head over the history notes I had been set for this week, trying to sink into the (in my opinion) unappealing world of Charlemagne.

My phone began to vibrate across my desk, disrupting my concentration. I stared at it. The caller ID said "Caller Unknown" so I instantly assumed it was an international call. Perhaps my father was calling me back about something.

I picked up the phone and pressed the 'accept' button.

"Hello?"

"Good evening."

The voice was not my father's. And it wasn't Paula's or even Richard's. But I recognised it nevertheless, and I almost dropped the phone as my fingers went weak, feeling as though my energy and blood was being drained out of my body. It was a good thing I was sitting down, or I might have collapsed from my legs going so weak.

"You haven't forgotten about me, have you?"

Truth was, I had. Sort of, anyway. The memory of what had happened to me back in Rome... and my encounter with the man whose distinctive voice I now heard at the other end of the phone, had not exactly been erased from my mind. Merely clouded over by all the other things that I had been dealing with over the past two weeks. But I certainly remembered him now, and was shaking all over from the memory.

"No," I managed to squeak out in a strained whisper then, trying to sound a little more controlled; "I haven't forgotten."

"I'm very glad to hear it," he said, and I could tell he was smirking. The thought of it lit a fire inside my head, which already had enough fuel to last a lifetime. What he said next did not help in the least. "I thought I might call... just to check on you."

"How thoughtful," I remarked snidely. "It was very considerate of you to remind me of all the death threats on top of everything else I have to deal with."

"Why? Are you having problems?"

That question threw me for a moment, not just because it was so direct and insightful, but also the tone with which it was asked. What was that underlying emotion? But I recovered quickly from my confusion and responded heatedly. "It's none of your business."

"Of course it isn't," he replied with infuriating calm. "But I thought you might appreciate having someone to talk to."

I laughed outright, with so much bitterness I was shocked at myself. "Oh sure... like I really want to spill my problems to someone like you."

"So you are having problems."

The fact that he was right only fuelled my outrage. Something snapped inside my head, and my voice went right along with it. "What the hell do you care!" I shouted down the phone. "Just leave me the hell alone!" And I hung up, almost throwing the mobile phone against the opposite wall in my sudden burst of emotion.

I didn't know why, but somehow just admitting that I was having difficulty coping made me get upset. And having someone like_ him _draw the information out of me, when I couldn't even fathom the courage to tell my own father about it... it put the first real crack in my façade of control and stability. I felt my breathing become harsh in my throat, and the sobs began to take over. Hot tears ran down my cheeks and I pressed the heel of my palm between my eyes as I desperately tried to fight them.

Once I finally had myself under some semblance of control again, I looked down at the desk in front of me, and the books and papers strewn everywhere. The sight very nearly caused me to break down again. How could I possibly do all this work in time? Despairingly, I put my head in my hands.

I nearly jumped out of my chair when the mobile phone, which was still clutched in one white-knuckled hand, rang once again. I stared at it for a few seconds, at the "Unknown Caller" message that flashed on the little screen, not sure whether I should answer or just put it in my drawer and forget about it.

Finally I pressed a button and raised the phone up to my ear with a trembling hand.

"Hello?"

"Have you got yourself under control now?"

Him _again_. I was about to make some scathing comment about how persistent he was being but stopped myself, partly because I was afraid what his reaction might be and also the fact that he was being so persistent confused me. Why was he calling me? Why was he asking me about my problems? The absurdity of what was happening... this conversation... the man's patient reaction to my outburst was too much for me. As these thoughts swirled about inside my head, I heard my breath becoming ragged again, until my throat felt sore and a strange choking sound escaped my lips.

"Come now, my dear... take a deep breath."

"What?" I asked in a shaky, confused voice.

"Take a deep breath."

Still not quite understanding, I did as he instructed and took in a long, deep breath through my nose. Then I let it out slowly through my mouth, trying to control it as much as possible. But it ended in a long shudder that nearly became another sob.

"And again, my dear."

"Don't talk to me like I'm a baby," I said, my anger threatening to make a drastic reappearance.

"If you don't want to be treated like a baby then I suggest you stop acting like one."

His cool approach to my temper only confused me more, and I was silent for a moment as I tried to put together the pieces of exactly what was happening to me. I was on the phone... with someone who had threatened my life and my family... who had killed a man... and he was telling me to stop acting like a baby. It was surreal... it couldn't really be happening.

"Now..." he went on, "perhaps you'd like to talk about what's troubling you."

I mentally slapped myself, briefly dispelling all my confused thoughts. Even if his apparent concern did puzzle me, I wasn't about to be duped into telling him all the things going on in my life. I wasn't that stupid.

"Why should I tell you?" I asked, trying to sound more level-headed than I actually felt.

I could well imagine him giving a dismissive shrug at the question. "Because I'm prepared to listen. And it certainly sounds as though you need someone to talk to."

"Why do you care?" I asked, repeating my earlier question, but without the hysteria this time.

There was a soft, amused chuckle from the man at the other end. "When did I say I _did_ care?"

This was just getting worse and worse. We were talking round in circles, answering questions with more questions, and it was doing nothing for my already ragged nerves. I wished that he would just get the matter over with, make his threats and leave me alone once and for all. But since clearly he wasn't about to do this, I decided to play along for a little. Perhaps I could catch him out.

"Well... you didn't," I admitted. "But then why would you ask?"

"Curiosity," he said simply.

"How charming," I muttered sarcastically. "But I'm not really in the habit of telling people I don't know about my personal problems."

Even over the phone I could sense his amusement. "Touché, my dear."

I couldn't help smiling at that particular comeback. But I seized on the opportunity to ask him questions. "How about you tell me your name?" I reasoned that if I could find out some information about this man then maybe, just maybe, I'd be able to turn him in without putting myself and my family at serious risk. It was worth a shot at least.

Unfortunately, he was on to me.

"Planning to wheedle information out of me, my dear?" he asked mockingly, and then tutted down the phone. I gritted my teeth at his blatant patronising and waited for him to go on. "Well... I certainly don't mind telling you my name, since it won't make the least bit of difference if you tell anyone. You may call me Erik."

Erik... well, that certainly didn't give me much to go on. And from what he had just said it was probably a false name. If he was the kind of man he appeared to be then he probably had years of experience of avoiding the police. He could make a murder look like suicide... he had access to that massive underground maze... No. It probably didn't make any difference that I knew his name. I was still stuck.

"So now that we are better acquainted..." He left the prompt hanging, waiting for my response. And, in spite of everything, I found that I did want to speak. It wasn't that I felt particularly inclined to speak to him... this Erik person. I was willing, at this point, to spill my guts to anyone... apart from my family, whose consciences I didn't want to burden in any way.

After a minute or so of silence, with only the sound of my breathing filling the room, he spoke again, and his voice was so wonderfully gentle I felt a little of my icy exterior towards him melt away.

"Talk, Christine."

Perhaps it was his use of my name, and the warm, rich way that he pronounced every syllable of it... the way it sounded, from his lips, like some soft, reverent prayer. Whatever it was, it made me ache to spill every thought in my head and heart to him. But I knew I shouldn't... no matter how much I needed to.

"Listen... Erik," I said finally, shocked at how I was actually making an effort to sound polite, as if I was wary of hurting his feelings. "I appreciate your... your 'concern'. But I really don't want to talk about this."

There was a moment of tense silence and I realised I was chewing my lower lip nervously, as I was worried I may have offended him.

"Really?" he asked, with more than a hint of scepticism.

_Don't you dare give in_, I told myself sternly while saying aloud, "Yes... really."

He gave a theatrical sigh down the phone. "Well... you know your own mind, I'm sure."

Patronising me again. But I held my tongue this time. What I wanted most of all was for the conversation to end before I had another emotional breakdown and really did end up telling him what was wrong.

"I suspect you've got a lot of work to be getting on with," he went on.

A lump rose in my throat and I cast a look at the pile of work that I had to get done. "Yes," I whispered, my voice very close to breaking.

"Then I won't take up any more of your time. Good night."

I barely had time to say a bewildered goodbye in return before I heard the clicking sound of the phone being replaced. I held my own phone in front of my face and looked down at the little screen, as though it might hold the answers to the numerous questions running through my mind. Eventually I slammed it down angrily on the desk.

Who did this man... this Erik... think he was? He must be insane to think that I would actually confide in him after everything he had done to me. Why would I want him as my agony uncle? I'd sooner confide my problems to Adolf Hitler!

But even as I bent my head and began ferociously working on my history notes, I knew that this wasn't entirely true. Yes... it was crazy to think that this man was actually concerned to any degree about what was going on in my life, but I would be lying if I said I hadn't wanted, however briefly, to tell him everything. It wasn't because I thought he might understand or be able to help... because I didn't. It was he fact that, as he had pointed out himself, he was prepared to listen. I believed that, even if I could only guess at the reasons why. It would be such a relief to talk to someone about what was happening without having to worry about making then feel guilty, which was why I couldn't bring myself to tell my father.

At last I put my pen down and, with great theatrical aplomb, brought my forehead crashing down after it.

"Why me?" I murmured into the desk.

I was still asking myself this question when I finally climbed into bed and drifted into a numb, dreamless sleep.


	7. Chapter 6

Another chapter. Thank you for all your lovely reviews... I'm glad the last chapter went down okay. Hope this one will too. Enjoy!

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Chapter 6

For the next few days my behaviour was distracted... from work, from friends... everything. I drifted through the days not truly taking in what was happening. And it was noticed. On more than one occasion I was told to wake up by my teachers, or had to be brought back into the real world by a sharp nudge from Richard or Meg.

"I worry about you," Richard said on more than one occasion, though from his smile I could tell he was only teasing. "You've been so day-dreamy."

'Day-dreamy' wasn't exactly how I would have chosen to describe my state of mind. I just found it so hard to concentrate on things when all my brain wanted to do was ask and try to figure out all those questions concerning a certain masked man named Erik. I worried... panicked almost, about what he was up to. I wasn't able to let go of the idea that he had some kind of ulterior motive to asking me to tell him my worries. Probably for some kind of emotional blackmail, I reasoned. He certainly seemed like the type to use that.

But for what purpose?

My spaced out behaviour did nothing for my workload. While I should have been studying and making notes I was actually pacing in the tiny space my room allowed, trying to piece things together. I was aware that if I didn't stop this behaviour I was in for an even rougher time than I had originally thought, but no matter what I did I couldn't get thoughts of Erik out of my head. Even his voice haunted me at every moment, including while I slept... that insufferably gentle and soothing voice. I was all too aware of how easy it would be to fall completely under whatever power he seemed determined to exercise over me. But I was determined not to give in like some simpering idiot and go begging for his advice and comfort. I wanted to handle things myself... I was a big girl after all.

But still... I needed a confidant. And as much as I loved talking to Meg and Richard (the latter in particular), there would always be something holding me back from opening up to them, or some stupid activity would get in the way.

"I know something that'll wake you up," said my music teacher briskly. I forced myself to pay attention as she drew a form out of her desk and handed it to me. "There's a very important concert coming up in a few weeks. It's held every year... for the school governors and the headmaster. Very important to the school."

I shook myself mentally and nodded in understanding. We used to have similar concerts at my last school, although I could already tell by the serious look on the teacher's face that this was far more important than anything I had performed in up until then. Looking down at the paper I held, there were quite a few names already signed up.

"It's up to you what you'd like to perform," she was saying. "Personally I think _The Jewel Song_ would be most appropriate. Something to really show them what you've got."

"You want me to perform?" I asked stupidly.

She gave me a withering look. "Don't tell me you're going to get cold feet, Christine. You can't afford that... not with talent like yours."

I shook my head hurriedly. No, I had no qualms about performing on stage, although I'd be the first to admit that I got jittery beforehand. I was only human, after all. But once I was stood out there and the first note was sung I always felt perfectly at home.

"You do want to do this, don't you?" she asked, studying my face carefully for signs of doubt.

"Of course," I said as enthusiastically as I could manage, although my eyes strayed back down to the paper and noted with an inward wince that Charlotte had also put her name down. I didn't want to start getting competitive with her, but knew that she would probably take her hate campaign up a notch if she saw my name on the same list.

On the other hand... how could I possibly say no?

* * *

"That's great, Chris," Richard said when I told him the news later that day.

"They haven't even drawn up the program yet," I argued as we walked, making our way slowly in the direction of the girls' dorms. "I might not perform at all."

He laughed. "Come on... we both know they'd have to be crazy not to let you sing. And your teacher obviously wants you to."

Well, that was true. But she wasn't the one who decided what the line up was. She could only give a recommendation, which may or may not be good enough. I was determined, however, not to get my hopes up too much, in case of a disappointment.

Richard must have misread the look in my eyes as nervousness, because he put his arm around my shoulders and gave me a slight, affectionate squeeze.

"You'll be fine," he told me gently.

I smiled in return, but had to turn my head away quickly when I felt the colour rising in my cheeks. Suddenly his closeness was strangely unnerving. Not really in a bad way... I had just never been this close to a guy before. My dating history was practically non-existent. I could admit to having a few crushes in my time, but nothing serious and certainly never a proper relationship. And since this was Richard... my first ever crush, well... it was probably quite understandable that I was feeling a little shy.

We arrived at the door to the building, and I could feel Richard's reluctance to allow his arm to slip from my shoulders. It sent a little quiver through my insides, a feeling that was magnified when we turned to face each other. As I waited for him to say goodnight, he tilted his head to one side and gave me a long, critical look.

"You sure you're okay?" he asked, his warm and gentle concern apparent in his voice and eyes.

I pretended to be exasperated by the question and rolled my eyes theatrically. "I'm fine," I said, laughing in spite of my words, which were far from being completely true. But he seemed reassured enough and gave me a wide grin. Then, to my surprise, he cast a quick look to each side of us, as if looking out for something. Curious, I tried to follow his gaze, and so was caught completely off guard when his lips touched my cheek. It was only the slightest of kisses... it lasted only a moment and then he was walking away, his lips pursed together as if he were trying to hide his embarrassment.

I stood there like a complete idiot for a few seconds, mouth slack and my heart beating in a quick tempo against my ribcage. Then I drew my thoughts back together again and turned back to the door, my now clumsy fingers having a difficult time punching in the correct door code. I was still in a daze when I got back to my room and sank down into my chair.

He'd kissed me. It might not have been a full-blooded kiss on the lips, but it was still a beginning. Did it really mean what I thought it did? That Richard actually wanted to be in a relationship with me? The idea was... was... it was enough to make me feel giddy and surprisingly care-free.

If only it could have lasted.

Within an hour I had descended into a panic that no romantic thoughts could erase. I had just resolved to get on with my work and leave my pleasant memories of Richard at the back of my mind, to be relished at a later hour when I made a less than agreeable discovery. My notes were gone... the history notes that I had spent the past week trying to finish were gone. The infuriating and worrying fact was that I had been working on them earlier and knew they had been right there on my desk before I had left the room. But I still found myself frantically searching in drawers, under the bed... any conceivable place they might be.

My phone began ringing and I answered it, in a voice that instantly betrayed my desperation.

"Hello!"

"Oh dear... it sounds like you're having more trouble."

Somehow, even the sound of Erik's voice didn't make me falter in my panic. Under any other circumstances I probably would have frozen up with nervousness. ButIt only heightened my exasperation at the world in general.

"Oh god, this is _not _a good time!"

"I can tell," he replied with a slight chuckle that I did not appreciate under the circumstances. "What's wrong?"

I probably would have answered the question no matter who asked it. At any rate I instantly launched into an overwrought explanation about my missing notes, getting more and more wound up at the futility of my search for them.

"You're certain you left them on your desk?"

"Yes!" I almost shouted, ready to go into hysterics.

"Well then... if you haven't moved them, it seems logical that someone else must have."

Now I stopped. I'd be lying if I said the possibility had not occurred to me, but I didn't like to think that someone would do something so petty as to steal my history notes... just in order to rattle my nerves. On the other hand it was the perfect way to do just that. Just about everyone knew how rushed I was with my work, even if I didn't allow the true extent of my panic to show.

"Can you think of anyone who would do something like that?" he asked reasonably.

Yes, I could. The name Charlotte jumped instantly into the forefront of my brain. I had to admit that she did seem the type. She wasn't really the in-your-face kind of bully. She was the back-stabbing, smooth-tongued and, apparently, quick-fingered type... one of those who were very careful about not getting caught out.

I sank into my chair, phone against one ear and my free hand pressed into my forehead.

"Charlotte... Charlotte Mason," I said, suddenly feeling exhausted.

"You think it was her?"

"Well, I can't think of anyone else," I muttered bitterly, and then cursed under my breath. I knew I was probably going to start crying at this rate, in spite of my best efforts to control myself.

Very gently he began to coax me to talk, asking me questions about Charlotte and why she might do something like that. And, to my surprise, I did talk, for a long time and in great detail. And not just about what she had been doing to me... the whispering and pointing, but the way it had made me feel. The way my confidence in myself had been dropping and how paranoid it was making me. Erik listened calmly to everything I related to him and, as much as hated to admit it, I began to feel much better having finally opened up to someone at last.

"It sounds like you're having quite a hard time settling in," he said sympathetically when I finally went quiet.

"It's not just settling in," I murmured softly as I twirled a strand of hair around my fingers. "It's everything... going to Rome and..." I trailed off, not sure whether I should risk going on.

"Yes, I understand," Erik replied. "It must be very difficult to uproot yourself in such a way."

I was quite taken aback by these words. I would never have expected him of all people to see my dilemma so clearly. Yet he seemed to understand to what I was feeling more than anyone else. Not that I thought others didn't understand me... but no one else seemed willing to talk about it. Even in the beginning, when my father had tried to be sympathetic about what would happen to my life as a result of our move to Rome... we always tiptoed carefully around the subject, wary of upsetting each other.

But as the night went on I found myself slowly and steadily confiding in Erik every little thing that was upsetting me, from my regret about not being able to talk to my father to the panic about how I would ever be able to cope with everything for the rest of the year. Even though a tiny part of my brain continued to scream at me '_What the hell are you doing?'_ the rest of me rallied on and on until I glanced at my watch.

"Oh god... I have to go." If I had any hope of getting these notes redone in time then I had to get started right away.

"Of course. What do you intend to do about your notes?"

"Well, I can't exactly go up to Charlotte and accuse her of stealing them," I said, although an image of me punching her in the face briefly presented itself in my mind. But that wasn't going to improve matters so I put the idea to one side. "I'll just have to redo them."

"Will you have time?" Erik asked.

I sucked in my breath between my teeth. "I don't know. I'll have to stay up late... but I think I'll manage."

There was a moment of contemplative silence at the other end of the phone before Erik responded. "Well then... good luck."

I couldn't help smiling, if a little uncertainly. It was like a boundary had been crossed. But I didn't feel so terrible about being on the other side of that boundary. In fact I felt better... better than I had felt in quite some time about the way things were.

"Thanks..." I said, almost involuntarily. It felt strange for me to be thanking this man. But while I knew he was to blame, at least in part, for my recent feelings of anxiety and depression... I couldn't deny that by coercing me to talk, he had lifted a very big weight off my shoulders. I owed him thanks for that at least. "I guess I really did just need to talk."

"You're welcome, my dear," he said softly, and my smile widened.

"Good night."

"Good night."

Erik hung up the line first, and I waited to hear the dial tone before pushing the 'end call' button on my mobile. The smile remained plastered on my face as I gave a big sigh and went to make myself some coffee. I was going to need lots of caffeine for the night ahead.


	8. Chapter 7

Author's Note: Someone asked how Charlotte was able to get into Christine's room if it was locked. The individual rooms aren't locked (they rarely, if ever, are in English boarding schools). There are key-pad locks on the main doors to the buildings though. Sorry if I didn't explain this more clearly.

Enjoy this new chapter! Thanks for all your reviews so far... I love them. Don't stop!

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Chapter 7

The issue of my missing notes was never fully resolved. I pulled an all-nighter and managed to turn in my work on time and was none the worse for it, apart from being a little grouchy the day after. I didn't confront Charlotte partly because I didn't have any proof against her and also because I felt it would infuriate her more to act as if nothing serious had happened.

No one else knew about that little episode except Erik.

Over the next few weeks I busied myself with my studies and there were no major dramas, only steady developments. My relationship with Richard, well... in a boarding school environment it's hard to really develop a proper relationship. At least it was for me. I didn't quite like the fact that we were constantly the subject of gossip and I was hounded by the other girls wanted to know "how far we'd got". So I was reluctant to let it go beyond kisses... although admittedly those kisses could become quite heated. I was quite aware of our physical attraction to one another, I would have had to be blind and insane not to realise it... but I was not about to let things progress physically if nothing was happening emotionally. From the beginning I was resolved to see what the future held.

And strangely enough it wasn't this particular relationship that seemed to fill that future with its unusual mix of comfort and eccentricity.

I received phone calls nearly everyday from Erik, who became, much to my astonishment, almost like a mentor to me. At first I was still wary of him, even after our initial conversation where I poured my soul out to him. My mind would not quite let go of the memory of his threats and the things he had done. But little by little I would open myself up to him... tell him my worries... even ask for his advice. And he never held back on these matters. He always listened with such calm sympathy, and gave me the best kind of help I could have asked for. He proved to be very knowledgeable about almost everything... often nudging me in the right direction with essays I had to write and such. He surprised me over and over again with his insightful suggestions until I could hardly believe this was the same man I had encountered in that cold, dark basement beneath my home.

But his particular passion was music. I should have guessed it, since judging from his voice he was more than adept when it came to singing. I might have asked him to sing for me if I weren't too embarrassed to do so, and besides his voice would never sound as beautiful down the phone. He seemed to take great delight in asking me questions about my repertoire, my style, my particular attachment to certain pieces. I realised very early on that he had examined my CD collection in great detail and in spite of being a little angry and disturbed by this, I was so overwhelmed by his similar taste and his overall love of music that I quickly overlooked this detail.

I remember making a big mistake and laughing at how much he knew seemed to know about music and just about everything else. When he asked me what was so funny I said, without thinking:

"You know a lot for someone who lives underground."

Two seconds later the line went dead.

I had felt guilty about it for days, hating myself for taking a joke one step too far. For a while I thought that that would be the end of it and I'd never be hearing from Erik again, but within a week he had called me as though nothing had ever happened. I wanted to apologise for what I had said, but he gave me no opportunity, and eventually I was forced to let the whole matter go, learning only the valuable lesson not to mention it again.

That incident was perhaps the most extreme reminder to me of exactly what kind of man he was. He never truly lost his temper with me, although on many occasions a badly worded comment or sarcastic observation would make his otherwise lyrical voice turn icy and bitter. But I was careful to never make the same mistake twice, if I could help it. I never asked him questions or made any comment about his lifestyle, and tried to keep my sarcasm in check as much as possible. Erik, on the other hand, asked me endless questions about myself and my life until he knew me almost as well as I knew myself. He was very intuitive... and always seemed to know when I was upset by something, and then he would easily convince me to tell him what was wrong.

Which was why he was the only one who knew the full extent of my frustration when I received an appalling piece of news.

"So you will not be performing?" he asked, and even I could tell he was making a considerable effort to maintain the calm tone of his voice.

"No... I'm performing. Just with a group of other people."

We were silent for a moment. I had just finished explaining to him how my music teacher had given me the news of the concert. Apparently so many people had signed up to sing that they had decided (in order to not disappoint anyone) to put everyone in a group together to sing a few songs. There would only be one or two solo singers out of the girls... and no prizes for guessing who was and wasn't going to be performing solo.

"Do you think there's more to her being chosen than a simple coincidence?" he asked.

"Well, Richard told me Charlotte's dad's one of the school governors," I told him, although whether this had been a deciding factor I wasn't sure.

"And she decided to use that to her advantage, you think?"

"I don't know… maybe. She might not have done anything at all. It's probably just me being bitter." I kicked the side of my bed in frustration. "I just... I really wanted to do this."

"Yes, I know how much it meant to you," he said. I gave a slightly amused laugh at this. Erik _would_ know. I had, after all, been going on about this concert for the past few weeks. It wasn't just me that I wanted to perform for however. My father always delighted in hearing about the concerts I sang in... and I always liked to think that, wherever she was now, my mother was looking down proudly at me. Her death had severely shaken my faith in... well anything. But my father had always remained strong in this regard, unshakable in his belief that my mother's soul resided in heaven and would watch over me wherever I went, especially when I sang.

But a nagging thought at the back of my mind kept bringing forth the suggestion that these were not the only people for whom I wished to sing.

"Oh and you'll never guess what that… that _cow_ is singing!"

I heard him laugh. My little irritated outbursts always amused him to some degree. "What?"

"_The Jewel Song _from Faust. She knows that's what I was going to sing... if I had been performing. Even if she didn't rig the whole thing I just know she's rubbing it in my face." I kicked the bed again and then had to sit down and nurse my throbbing foot.

"This concert is next week, isn't it?" Erik asked suddenly.

"Yeah, why?"

"No reason," he said dismissively. I knew better than to press him to answer... he would only get annoyed with me, and I didn't want or need that right now. Our conversation moved on to other things... my school work and how I was coping, which was pretty well considering. By the end of the conversation I had cooled off considerably about my situation with performing in the concert, but I still went to bed with a lingering feeling of anger and bitterness towards Charlotte that continued on into the week.

It didn't help at all that Charlotte turned out to be a Grade A bitch during rehearsals. She was a true and classic prima donna. The accompanist, a shy boy who was nevertheless very competent on the piano, was almost reduced to a cowering wreck by her tantrums that his playing was too loud.

"You're drowning me out!" she snarled angrily.

I snorted from my seat in middle of the hall, where all the others were waiting for their own practices to begin with varying degrees of patience. "Drowning would be a blessing for most of us right now," I muttered quietly.

Beside me, Richard contained a laugh. "Yeah. If I had a gun..." and he mimed cocking a sniper rifle at the stage and shooting a bullet. I grinned and then felt the blush creep into my cheeks as he took my hand in his warm, strong one. Even as I watched Charlotte belt out _The Jewel Song_ at full volume I was aware of the stroking of his thumb across my knuckles and it sent a tingly feeling running through my body.

Finally we came to my own rehearsal and I, along with at least five other girls, made our way up to the stage. Charlotte, who was performing with the group as well, was now demanding where her water bottle was and briefly rushed off the stage to fetch it before taking her position in the group, which was unfortunately next to me. I ignored the smug smile on her face and concentrated on the warm up now taking place, clenching and unclenching my fists by my sides.

The rehearsal started off badly, with Charlotte deciding she could carry the song herself and attempting to drown out the rest of us. Fortunately and to my delight, she was reprimanded by the music teacher, who didn't think that maximum volume was appropriate for _A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square. _Everyone, teachers and students, were on edge, since this was the last rehearsals before the main performance tomorrow evening. Even I was a little nervous,despite the factI was only going to be performing in a group. The general atmosphere of the hall was getting to me to the point where I was worrying about everything!

When everything was finally over we had to tidy up the hall, picking up rubbish and tidying chairs away. I was given the keys to lock up by the teacher and told to hand them in at the Teacher's Office when everything was finished. One by one the students wandered away until only me and Richard were left behind in the huge hallway, each carrying a stack of chairs.

"There's only two stacks left, I can manage," I told him, remembering suddenly that he had a late night study session with one of his teachers.

"You sure," he said, looking a little guilty about leaving me. I smiled and nodded, deciding not to reveal my ulterior motive for staying behind on my own.

"Go on or you'll be late."

"What a tragedy that would be," he said sardonically, and leant over the stack of chairs and gave me a long, lingering kiss. Out of instinct I reached up and ran my fingers through his thick blonde locks, savouring the warmth of his scalp and the silkiness of his hair before he turned with a friendly smile and ran out of the hall. I stared after him until he had disappeared through the big double doors before, one by one, carrying the remaining piles of chairs to the side of the hall, leaving the massive space now completely free.

But it was to the stage that I now turned, with a sad smile and glazed eyes. I made my way over and went up the half-dozen steps to stand there... in the very place I had hoped to stand when I performed tomorrow. Of course... that wasn't going to happen now and, as I finally began to resign myself to this fact, a lump collected in my throat. The chance had passed me by... there was nothing I could do about it now.

As tears began to form in my eyes, I cleared my throat and listened for a moment as that one sound echoed a little across the empty hall. Then I took a deep breath and opened my mouth...

_There's a place for us,_

_Somewhere a place for us._

_Peace and quiet and open air,_

_Wait for us... somewhere._

I let my imagination do the work for me here. In my mind I heard soft piano music and, over that, the gloriously gentle tenor that I always imagined for the part of Tony in _Westside Story. _Soft and comforting... reassuring me that everything would be alright. I shut my eyes to block out everything else, allowing my voice to join in with that soothing tenor I heard in my mind and all around me. It seemed to take hold and send my whole being soaring upwards and outwards into the hall and far beyond that until I felt like I was flying.

The feeling lasted long after the final note died away, and then ended abruptly when an all too real voice spoke softly from behind me.

"Perfection."


	9. Chapter 8

I'm very sorry for the cliffhangerat the end of the last chapter. I just had to do it to you all, hehe. I hope this chapter makes up for it. Enjoy!

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Chapter 8

The voice that had spoken was all too familiar, but hearing it so unexpectedly made me feel like I'd grabbed hold of an electric fence. I spun around and stared, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, at the black-clad figure of Erik, who was seated at the piano, his long fingers resting upon the keys.

"Although..." he continued, whilst staring calmly back at me from behind the white mask, "it is not the most appropriate piece for this concert tomorrow."

I barely heard the words he spoke. I was too shocked by the fact thathe was here, in the flesh.Although I had not seen him for weeks, his image was branded on my memory, andhe was just as I remembered, from the black clothes to the eerie white mask. But looking at him now… it was suddenly hard to believe that this was the same man who had comforted and supported me over the past few weeks. It was almost as if I had convinced myself that there were two of him. One was the kind and thoughtful man who I spoke to almost every night, and who I had begun to trust and perhaps even considera friend. The other…

Suddenly, I was struck by the memories of what else he had done to me... things I would rather not remember… but knew I should not forget.

"What..." I stammered, almost incapable of coherent speech."What are you doing here?" I sounded breathless… like a fish out of water, which was pretty much how I felt too.

He tilted his head slightly and, in the shadows, I saw the flicker of a smile on his mouth. As usual, the rest of his face was hidden behind the white mask, but his eyes sparkled with a private amusement I certainly did not share in.

"You sounded as though you needed help."

Rather than respond to this declaration I simply stared, befuddled, at the masked man. With the smile still faintly present on his exposed mouth he beckoned me closer to the piano with a smooth, almost irresistible gesture. Almost... because I could still recall the threats, the way that same beckoning hand had once held a knife, andpointed it at my throat. That memory was even more pronounced now that I could see the man himself. Over the phone, it was often hard to believe that the melodic voice could ever make a single threatening remark.

But this figure before me... cloaked in shadows... suddenly he seemed capable of anything.

"Come here," he commanded softly. His voice was much harder for me to resist and I obeyed, but hesitantly, approaching to stand close to the piano. I made sure the huge instrument was between us,unconsciously seeking protection of any kind in Erik's presence.He watched my movements carefully, until I felt myself blushing uneasilyunder his gaze. I stared down at the dark wood under my hands and tried to think of a way to break the silence.

"If you're caught..." I began, but he chuckled softly before I could even start to think of the numerous things that might happen to him and probably to me if we were found.

"I won't be caught, Christine. Neither of us will... I assure you of that."

I didn't laugh out loud, but inside I did. A man who could kill another and still evade the police... who had somehow made his way over to this country without being suspected of anything... he could certainly avoid some school teachers on the prowl. What shocked me, however, was that I was actually concerned about what might happen _if_ we were found here... not just for my own sake but for his.

Deciding that this train of thought was too dangerous I tried another, only to realise too late that it was no better than the first.

"You really came all this way to..." I trailed off again. Why was I unable to complete a mere sentence?

Fortunately, for both our sakes, Erik did not respond to this unfinished question. He only regarded me quietly for a few moments before producing, from the inside pocket of his coat, a few sheets of carefully folded paper. Even before he handed them to me I knew they were music sheets, but I stared in confusion, and more than a little anger, when I recognised the piece.

"That's not funny," I snapped, thrusting the sheets back towards him.

He stared calmly back and didn't move. "Good... I had no intention of being funny."

I glared at him, then down at the song sheets and the words _The Jewel Song_ that were printed at the top of the page. "Then why are you giving me these?"

"Because you should practice," he responded simply.

"For what?" I asked bitterly, suddenly wanting nothing more than to ram those pages down his throat and retreat to some secluded place where I could cry in peace.

He gave a sigh of strained patience. "Because even if you are not to perform this piece tomorrow... that is no reason to neglect it." He looked at me again and perhaps he saw that I was still angry and upset by his request because he went on, but in a gentler tone. "I know it hurts, Christine... but you must not surrender your love of music to a mere setback. Are you going to behave this way every time you lose a part to someone else?"

As much as I hated to admit it, he was right. I was behaving like a child again. Life in any profession, but particularly in ones such was music and theatre, was full of disappointments and let downs. If I threw a bitter tantrum every time something like this happened then I would be no better than people like Charlotte.

When I did not respond, he went on. "Besides... you have far more talent than _that_ girl... who feels the necessity to use her connections to win performances. The raw talent you possess is more than you should ever need."

I felt myself blushing at the 'raw talent' reference. It wasn't that Erik had never complimented me before. In fact he had often made comments such as this over the phone. But perhaps it was because he was standing right there and saying it to my face that made these words have this kind of effect. I stared down at me feet in mute silence before Erik cleared his throat meaningfully. When I looked up he gestured for me to return to my former place in the centre of the stage. I did so, music sheets in hand, although I was still unable to see the point in all this.

I looked back at him, and he nodded as he went into the introduction of the song. I just had the time to realise that it hadn't just been my imagination… that his playing was more exquisite, more phenomenal than anything I had heard in my life… and then I was swept up in the music. I'd never sung with accompaniment like this before, and doubted I ever would again. By the end of the song I was breathless, but more from exhilaration than exhaustion.

Erik, however, merely looked thoughtful.

"I'm afraid that performance was lacking," he said finally.

I stared at him. "Lacking what?" I asked, uncertain whether to be hurt by his criticism. He tapped a gloved finger against his chin and didn't reply so I said, rather cheekily: "A little 'je ne sais quoi'?"

He fixed me with a stern look and for a second I thought I had overstepped the mark. But then he merely smiled a little sadly and shook his head.

"It lacked feeling."

I bit my lip. I had been a little too thrown by the expertise of Erik's playing to really get into the song, but I knew that even if I had tried it would have been difficult to call up the particular emotions that Marguerite would have been feeling. I couldn't really find anything to be truly ecstatic about and said so.

"I just can't find the inspiration," I explained guiltily.

Nodding, Erik contemplated the piano keys that lay under his gloved fingers. "I suppose every artist requires a little inspiration," he murmured more to himself than to me. "Who knows," he went on, "perhaps that inspiration will come soon."

I wasn't sure why, but the underlying tone in his voice made me feel a little shaky inside, as if he knew something that I didn't. But he wasn't giving anything away, even when I gave him a questioning look. He merely smiled and changed the subject.

"Again?"

Before I could reply he had begun the introduction again. This time I concentrated on putting more feeling into it. It gradually became easier, especially with Erik's playing. He seemed able todraw out the emotions on the piano with such easy grace. I became so caught up in the pleasure of singing to such wonderful accompaniment I realised suddenly that my voice was beginning to sound… not different exactly… but morerich and flowing. And even though I knew it sounded wonderful, it was actually disturbing to think of the effect Erik's playing could have. An almost hypnotic effect that was both delightful and dangerous.

I wondered if he knew.

When the final notes of the piano died away I could feel thatmy whole body was shaking uncontrollably.

"Oh wow," I whispered softly and, even though he was trying to hide it, I could see just the faintest tremor at the corner of Erik's mouth. The beginnings of an approving smile.

"Perhaps you should be getting back."

The sudden change in subject baffled me for a moment, and then my breath hitched in my throat as I remembered that I was supposed to have locked up the hall by now and returned the keys. I had only meant to stay a few minutes… if I was much longer I would get in trouble. Or worse, someone might come looking for me.

"Yeah," I said, trying to shake myself out of the strange non-reality that had descended around me. "I'll…" I stopped. The words 'I'll see you later' had been working their way out of my mouth, but I wasn't sure if I wanted to contemplate this possibility, or even my feelings about it. So I kept it simple. "Bye."

"Good bye for now."

I told myself not to read into those words as I turned my back on Erik, who had not moved from his seat in front of the piano. It made me feel self-conscious as I walked towards the doors at the back of the hall… knowing he was watching me go. But I refused to turn around and look over my shoulder until the very last minute, when I was out of those doors and shutting them behind me.

He was gone.

For the rest of the evening I tried to get my head around the fact that Erik was actually here in England… at my school. Perhaps he had been here for days, even weeks… and I hadn't realised it. Had he been watching me like he had when I had been in Rome? Ifeltmore thana little panickyabout the implications of this possibility… and strangely enough not because I felt that he was a threat to me or to my friends. Instead it was because, more and more, recently, Ihad begun to contemplate the possibility that Erik was not calling me simply to refresh my memory of his threats and the danger he might pose to me and my family. There was some other motive behind his casual manner. Why would he ask me so many questions if his only intention was to threaten me? Why would he give me advice? And why would he come all the way here just to lend me support?

But I wasn't ready to take this train of thought too far. Not yet. It was too… weird. I pushed it out of my head and tried to think of something else.

I was given something else to think about the very next day. I had just arrived in the dining room and sat down to eat breakfast when the roll-call was taken. At first all the names were read out as normal, but when Charlotte's name was called there was no answer. Her name was called a second time, and then a younger girl was sent to Charlotte's room to wake her up. I glared down into my cereal bowl. How could she possibly sleep in on a day like this? I would have been too excited to sleep at the thought of performing in the concert.

The younger girl return, out of breath from running, and said something to the teacher that I couldn't hear. Meg and I exchanged glances, and then watched as the teacher's expression turned to one of concern. She made a note on her clipboard and then sent the girl off again.

Charlotte didn't turn up at the morning assembly, and it wasn't until Music class, from which she was also absent, that I found out what was wrong.

"From what I've been told," the teacher said, "she just can't stop throwing up. The nurse said she's feverish and can't keep anything down… she may even have to go to hospital."

I nodded, frowning slightly in worry. I didn't like Charlotte, but even if she was a world-class bitch, it was still horrible that she was so ill.

"What about the concert?" I asked suddenly.

"Well, that's what I wanted to talk to you about," she said, with a hint of a smile on her face now. "Obviously Charlotte can't perform in her condition… but rather than remove her completely from the program I thought it would be much better to simply replace her."

I felt as though every internal organ in my body had suddenly jumped in celebration, hoping that my teacher was suggesting what I thought she might be. My feelings must have shown in my expression, because she grinned at me.

"I take it you feel up to it?"

Well, I certainly wasn't about to say no!


	10. Chapter 9

I was a little late getting this chapter up. Sowwy! I hope you enjoy it. Keep reviewing... you know I love 'em.

Chapter 9

The news about the concert was perhaps the biggest boost I could have asked for. I left my Music class feeling ecstatic to the point where I wanted to hug everyone that went past me. But I eventually settled on a more restrained approach... although Richard and Meg could tell something was up as soon as they saw me from the grin plastered on my face.

"That's great!" Richard exclaimed when I told them the news, squeezing me tightly. He looked almost as happy as I was. "Lucky break for you!"

"Not so lucky for Charlotte," I pointed out, suddenly feeling a little guilty that we were all so happy about my good luck when it was really down to her quite serious illness.

"Oh, come on," Meg said, rolling her eyes and laughing. "It's not as if it's your fault she got sick."

I nodded, but my excitement was still slightly dampened by the knowledge that my good luck was someone else's misfortune. I forced myself to smile at my friends to hide my worry though, and decided to concentrate on the upcoming concert. Even if I was only a replacement, I wanted to do well. In fact I wanted to do well _because_ I was a replacement. So I threw myself into the last minute rehearsals, and by the evening I was almost bubbling over with a mixture of excitement and nerves.

As the start of the concert drew near, the performers all gathered backstage. The singers had all done their warms ups, and the other musicians were giving their instruments final tests and tune ups before they were told to be quiet. Everyone was wearing a white shirt with either a black skirt of black trousers. It was like watching a collection of musical waiters and waitresses.

I twirled my fingers through my hair anxiously.

"Don't panic," Meg said. She had rushed backstage at the last minute to wish me good luck before taking her seat.

"I'm not panicking… just nearly dying from nervousness."

She giggled quietly at me, then realised the lights in the hall had been turned off. With a rushed 'good luck' hug, she hurried away and I watched her disappear around the side of the building. Inside, the concert began... and even though my song did not come until towards the end of the program, I caught myself chewing nervously on my bottom lip, wondering if I had warmed up enough... whether I needed a sip of water... or whether I should just make a run for it.

I mentally slapped myself. I was being stupid… it wasn't as though I'd never done anything like this before. Why was this time any different?

But it was different. Somehow… for some reason I couldn't fathom… it was different.

The various other musical acts rushed on, and all too quickly I heard the announcement I had been waiting for.

"The next act in the program is _The Jewel Song_ from the well-known opera _Faust_." The man announcing the piece exaggerated his foreign pronunciation and only succeeded in deepening my feelings of nervousness. "Unfortunately, Miss Charlotte Mason is ill tonight, and unable to perform. However, in her place, we are very happy to present Miss Christine Day."

There was a smattering of polite applause, and I felt someone nudge me in the back to propel me forward and onto the stage. I could practically feel the colour draining from my cheeks and the energy being sucked from my limbs as I made my way to the centre of the stage and looked out of the audience which, from my new position, seemed a lot bigger and more threatening than it had a few seconds ago.

_Why am I feeling like this_? I thought desperately. _Why do I feel like I can't breathe? More importantly… how can I get the opening trill right if I can't even breathe?_

Desperately, I looked around me, seeking something that she might be able to take comfort from. Meg… Richard… they were lost in the sea of faces stretching out before me. I strained my eyes for a second to look at the exit right at the back, and stopped. Standing right there, leaning back against the wooden panelling, was Erik. He was mostly wreathed in shadows, but I still recognized his tall, lean frame.

Erik was here... giving me his support.

The opening notes were struck... I had a few seconds to turn my mind back to the previous night, when no one was there to listen to me except Erik, when I had lost myself in the beauty of his playing... and then I opened my mouth...

When my sense of awareness returned, it was to the sound of applause. Rapturous applause. I stared around me, not quite sure whether I should believe what my eyes were telling me. Were people really standing up? Was this deafening sound really being made in admiration for my performance? Feeling a little dazed, I curtsied, and the colour returned to my cheeks in a rush when the clapping increased. Glancing over at the pianist, who was almost applauding me as well, I received a small encouragement to curtsy again and did so, aware of the smile that was plastered across my face.

Finally, as I moved off the stage, I stole a brief glance at the back to try and see Erik again. But the shadow leaning back in the darkness had vanished, and I could only hope that he would hang around afterwards so I might get a chance to speak to him… thank him… and… I wasn't sure what else.

Once off stage, I was practically engulfed by the swarming members of the school band and various other performers. They hugged me, congratulated me… but I was barely given enough time to get over the rush of euphoria before I was spun around and sent back onstage for the group singing. Those songs and the applause that followed went by in a blur and I was still on such a high afterwards that I had to go outside for some fresh air. Once there and alone, I leant my head up against the wall and sighed. I'd done it. I'd performed… in front of them, and been well received. Well… perhaps 'well-received' was a slight understatement. I had never expected a response like the one I had just witnessed. In fact, I almost suspected that it had all been in my head, or that they had been applauding someone else. I knew I was good but… the idea that I was _that_ good was overwhelming.

I nearly had a heart attack when someone touched me on the arm. A choked gasp leapt from my throat and I turned to face whoever it was.

"Ahh… Richard!" I was torn between laughter and annoyance as he chuckled evilly at having scared me, then wrapped me up in a warm, strong hug. "Don't scare me like that," I mumbled into his shoulder.

He laughed. "Sorry… I couldn't resist. I had to come back here."

I pulled back and raised an eyebrow at him. "Oh really? And why's that?"

"To tell you you're the most amazing person ever… anywhere…"

I blushed, then forgot my embarrassment as he took my face in both his hands and kissed me more deeply and intensely than I had ever expected him to. After a few moments of mental adjustment I returned the kiss, slipping my arms up around his and holding him tightly.

When we pulled apart I was breathless, and my lips were tingling. I couldn't hold in a shuddering laugh and we both grinned at each other. Over the past few weeks that I had started to believe that this was more than a flash-in-the-pan relationship, born out of our friendship as children and the repressed feelings I had once felt for him. Maybe there was something here that would really last.

But while this idea excited me a little, I was certainly not ready to be too intimate with Richard. It had nothing to do with my feelings about him, it was my lack of experience and nerves that made me wary. So far Richard seemed to have been taking it well enough, letting our relationship develop slowly, but I did worry that his patience might start to run thin someday.

"We should get back inside," I said quietly.

Richard nodded in agreement, but I didn't miss the look of disappointment on his face and winced inwardly.

We sneaked into the back of the hall to watch the school orchestra (the final act of the concert) performing their pieces. We didn't sit down, but leant against the wooden panels. I cast a brief look around, but again I could not see Erik anywhere. I wondered where he had disappeared to.

At the end of the concert everyone, parents, teachers and performers gathered at the back of the hall for drinks and conversation. I was obliged to stay for a little while, if only because people refused to let me get away without giving me a congratulatory hug or handshake.

One of these people in particular surprised me. I had been talking to my music teacher in one corner, listening to her assessment of my performance, when a middle-aged man in a dark suit broke away from his group to stand with us. He was quite tall, though not as tall as Erik, I noted, with a tired looking face that nevertheless managed to appear cheerful. I was quite shocked, therefore, to learn who he was.

"Miss Day?"

I nodded in reply to the newcomer, and he gave me a small smile.

"My name is Dominic Mason, I believe you and my daughter have music together?"

I tried not to let my sudden nervousness show on my face, but I felt my throat go dry as I realised that this man was Charlotte's father and, as I had been told, a school governor. I sincerely hoped he didn't feel any resentment towards me for taking his daughter's place in the concert.

"Oh, yes…" I said, finally remembering my manners and replying to his question. "Charlotte."

"Yes… I wanted to thank you for stepping in at the last moment… and congratulate you on such a fine performance too."

I blushed modestly, but also noted with some relief that Charlotte clearly did not inherit her bitchy attitude from her father. He seemed perfectly nice and friendly. Charlotte probably had the poor man wrapped around her little finger.

"Thank you," and then forced myself to be polite and ask: "How is Charlotte doing?"

Here, the man's expression turned quite serious and upset. "Not too well, I'm afraid. We had her taken to hospital this afternoon, when she didn't appear to be settling down."

"Do they know what the problem is?" my music teacher asked.

"The doctors did some blood tests… apparently they've found some harmful chemicals in her blood. They're quite concerned as to how they got there."

I frowned in a mixture of concern and confusion. "You mean food poisoning or something?"

"No... nothing like that. Otherwise she wouldn't be the only one to have it." He gave a little shrug. "I intend to investigate the matter further."

Beside me, my music teacher made a little sound of amused disbelief. "You're not suggesting someone did this deliberately, are you?"

I watched as the man's face hardened a little, and for the first time saw the slight resemblance to Charlotte... the determination to see this through to the end. It made me want to take a step back and away from him.

"My daughter is lying in a hospital bed," he said grimly. "I will do everything I can to get to the bottom of this matter for her sake. Whether there is any foul play involved remains to be seen…but I won't rule it out as a possibility. When Charlotte is better I'm sure she'll be able to tell us something useful."

At that precise moment someone called out to Mr Mason and, thankfully, he left the two of us alone with a cold 'goodbye'. But I soon parted ways with my music teacher and wandered through the crowd of people looking for someone else to talk to, so I could keep my mind off the worrying thought that there was a possibility that someone had deliberately poisoned Charlotte.

I pulled myself up suddenly and nearly laughed at how ridiculous my thoughts were becoming. Even if that were the case… there would have to be a motive. And while Charlotte was certainly not well liked, I couldn't imagine anyone going that far. I knew I wouldn't… not for a part in a concert. Besides… what did I know about poisoning someone?

I shook my head… who would do something so horrible over something so trivial?

Then, with a certain degree of horror, I remembered that… no. There was no way Erik had anything to do with this. I didn't want to remind myself that he was more than capable of such things…

The evening drew to a close, and I finally made my way back to my room, tired and worn out. I hung up my coat and went to draw my curtains before getting changed, but stopped in surprise. Lying on my windowsill was a rose – long-stemmed and the deepest red I had ever seen. It was surrounded by a spray of tiny white gypsophelia, tied to the stem with a slender piece of black ribbon. I picked it up as though it were some holy relic that might crumble into dust if handled without care. As I did so, a cool draught blew across my knuckles, and I saw that the window was open.

I smiled… knowing who must have left it. But there was no movement in the shadows beyond my window, and finally I gave up looking and turned away, closing the curtains with a tiny smile on my face. Wherever Erik was, he was pleased… and for some reason this knowledge thrilled me more than anything else.

I went to bed with the sound of applause ringing in my ears, and the rose close to me, on my bedside table. In the darkness I stared at the closed bloom, but I didn't sleep for a long time as I tried feverishly to stop myself from remembering… and wondering…

_Erik… what did you do?_


	11. Chapter 10

Quite a key chapter coming up here. At least, I think it is, hehe. I just hope I handled it okay. Thanks for all your reviews again. They make my day!

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Chapter 10

I was very glad that the morning after the concert was the weekend and I was able to relax a little. It had been a very restless night for me, unable to keep still for very long and questions rushing through my head, refusing to give my brain a moment's peace. I hoped that Erik might make his presence known at some point, so that I could at least begin to lay my mind to rest about whether or not he had anything to do with Charlotte's present condition, but I didn't see or hear anything from him until the Sunday afternoon.

School was mostly quiet on Sundays. Many students went home for weekends, or stayed with friends. Obviously I didn't have this luxury available to me, but I reasoned that at least this way I could catch up with work without too much disturbance. I would sit in my room with Mozart or Bach playing on my walkman and steam-rolling through notes and rough essay drafts.

That was exactly what I was doing this particular Sunday afternoon. And, as seemed to happen all too frequently when I was really into my work, I received a phone call.

"You spend too much time doing work," said an exasperated Richard, after I told him I couldn't take the bus into town with him. It was a common weekend practice for students who had nothing to do on the weekend to catch a local bus into the nearest town and do some shopping or just hang around somewhere other than school. Unfortunately, I wasn't one of those lucky students who had nothing to do, and I'd only managed to make the trip once before. Richard often complained about how I stayed in the house on the weekends, and each time he seemed to grow more annoyed by my refusal until I felt myself getting slightly irritated by his attitude.

"I have too much work to do… that's the problem," I pointed out, trying to sound reasonable.

"I know… I know. I just wish we had more time to spend together."

Well, I couldn't deny the truth of that. Although Richard and I got on well when we were together, we were never able to be together for a great length of time. This didn't leave much room for development in our relationship. In fact, I was quite amazed we had got as far as we had.

"Yeah," I agreed sadly, starting to feel a little guilty about our situation. "I will try and find some time, I promise."

"You always say that," he said.

Even though he tried to lighten his tone, I could detect the unmistakeable hint of sulkiness. But I didn't get the chance to reply before someone knocked on the door and Meg walked in without waiting for an invitation. She waved when she saw I was on the phone and sat on my bed, clearly wanting to talk to me about something.

"Who just walked in?" Richard asked.

"Meg," I said, pretending to annoyed by the fact. "I call you back when I've got rid of her, okay?" I laughed as Meg threw a pillow at me, and was happy to hear Richard sounded a little more cheerful too.

"Okay, bye then."

"Bye."

I hung up the phone and turned to Meg, who was looking at me expectantly. I stared back at her.

"So?" she said finally.

"So what?"

"How are things going?"

I winced and turned to look at the pile of homework on my desk. "Not great. I have about three essays to hand in… another ton of history notes…" I stopped when I caught Meg's expression. "What?"

She laughed. "As much as I love hearing about homework, I was talking about you and Richard. How are things going with you two?"

I should have been expecting this, I told myself, and sighed. Well… it would be nice to talk to someone about it. The subject of Richard never came up between me and Erik… it was something we seemed to have silently agreed to avoid, like some taboo subject. Even thinking about discussing my relationship with Richard with Erik made me feel weird.

"Honestly? Things aren't really going anywhere."

It was Meg's turn to frown. "Why? I thought you liked him. You always get on so well."

"It's not that," I said hurriedly. "I do like him a lot. It's just…" I gestured succinctly at my desk. "I never have the time to see him… so we don't really have time to…" I struggled for an appropriate word, "… develop."

Meg shot me a quirky look. "Develop?"

"You know… from 'like' to 'love'… that sort of thing."

"Oh right," she nodded, understanding what I meant now. "Yeah, I guess that is difficult when you don't spend much time together."

This mutual understanding was followed by an uncomfortable, contemplative silence. For some reason admitting to someone that my relationship with Richard was not so perfect and straightforward as it appeared to be on the surface was difficult. It almost made me begin to wonder if there were other things wrong with the relationship that I had been studiously ignoring. Fortunately, I was saved from this particular thought path as my phone lit up and began to ring loudly.

"Is that him again?"

"Probably," I said, picking the mobile up. "Give me a sec." I pressed the button without even thinking to look at the Caller ID and put the phone up to my ear. "Hello?"

"Hello, Christine."

I felt my stomach gave a little turn at the sound of Erik's voice. Even though I had been wanting to hear from him I hadn't expected him to call at this inopportune moment and I cast a worried glance at Meg. Instantly she saw something was wrong and mouthed "who is it?" Unable to answer, I lowered my eyes.

"Hi," I said simply, knowing instinctively that I could not give anything about Erik away to Meg.

"I thought perhaps you would be interested in another music lesson," Erik said, either not picking up on my anxious tone of voice or ignoring it completely.

"Oh… really?" I asked, still not sure what I could say to him, and very conscious of Meg sitting on the bed watching me and listening intently, her curiosity no doubt at a peak on seeing me so unnerved by a mere phone call.

"Are you alright, my dear? You sound a little shaken."

_Maybe if I could warn him_… "No, it's just that Meg's here…"

"Yes… and?"

Taken aback by his calm approach to this knowledge, I glanced out of my window. It was early afternoon but the sky was dark with rain clouds and everything was quiet in the school grounds beyond, apart from the steady patter of raindrops on concrete. I wondered whether he was lurking in the rain somewhere, watching me through the open curtains from some unknown hiding place.

When I didn't reply, he went on calmly, "If you are interested, see if you can find a way to sneak out sometime this evening and I'll meet you at the Assembly Hall, alright?"

"Um… okay," I agreed, still a little shaky.

"Good." And without another word there was a click and the dial tone sounded. Bracing myself, I turned back to Meg. As soon as the phone was away from my ear she asked the question:

"Who was that?"

I fumbled for a suitable answer and eventually said "a friend", trying to sound casual and dismissive. But she wasn't fooled for a second and gave me a sceptical look, clearly waiting for me to give a real answer. But I still tried to work my way out of it.

"Really… it was just a friend."

"Do all your friends make you so jumpy?" she teased. "Who was it?"

I knew I was going to have to find a more substantial response. "Someone I met in Rome in the summer."

"Is this 'someone' a guy?"

Inwardly I cursed Meg and her devastatingly accurate intuition. I said nothing out loud, but Meg already knew she was right and nearly fell off the bed in her excitement at the potential scandal she had just uncovered. But as soon as I saw her expression I raised my hands.

"Don't get ahead of yourself, Meg."

"Oh come on, Chris!" she said, apparently delighted by the gossip. "You meet some Italian guy and I'm supposed to believe it's nothing?"

"It _is_ nothing," I insisted. When she still looked sceptical, I went on. "Look…I know what you're thinking, but really it's nothing like that."

"Oh, please," she said.

"He's just a friend!" I insisted desperately.

And then Meg dealt out a shocking accusation.

"You sound like you're trying to convince yourself more than me."

I was so thrown by this comment that I just stared at my friend with my mouth open for a few seconds. Never would I have expected her to come out with something like this… this horrible implication that I was… that I might be…

I pointed at the door.

"Out."

It was Meg's turn to look shocked. I had never been so blunt before… not with anyone. But in all honesty she had shaken me quite badly with that allegation, not least because I was now wondering if there was any truth to it. But I refused to let my inner worries show on my face this time and just blankly told her I had work to do. She looked hurt and although I felt guilty I knew I couldn't have handled anymore of her questions without getting seriously angry with her. So I left no room for any argument and eventually she left the room in silence.

Once the door had shut behind her I rested my forehead in my palms and tried to arrange my thoughts into some sort of order. What had I said? Was I really trying to convince myself that Erik and I were just friends? It was weird to think of us as friends... even after everything. But if we weren't friends then what were we?

We certainly weren't what Meg seemed so desperate to make us. We weren't… I didn't…

By the evening I was so frantic that I felt the need to reassure myself against my friend's words, and finally stood up, collecting my music books together. It would be quite easy for me to get out of the building, even at this time. All I had to do was say I was going to the music rooms to practice, something I did all the time since it would have disturbed other people to have me practicing in my room. But instead of going to the music rooms I'd just go to the Assembly Hall, and hope I didn't get caught.

I got permission from the housemistress and made my way across the courtyard, shoulders hunched against the rain, which was falling in big drops that slipped down my collar. The school had CCTV cameras dotted around the place, but they were easy enough to avoid if you knew where they were. Once I was sure no one was watching, or could possibly see me, I changed direction from the music rooms to the Assembly Hall. I made it to the front door, already soaked through, and shifted all my things into one arm to grab the handle.

And, just as I had been suspecting, it was locked. I would have been more surprised if it wasn't at this time. When I checked my watch it was 8:30. If I was caught here at this time I was liable to be punished… probably by being confined to the boarding house except during lessons and sports. Frustrated, I blew a drop of rainwater off the end of my nose. If Erik didn't appear in ten minutes then I was going back, and to hell with my questions and worries.

Right on cue, a hand rested on my shoulder. The touch was light, but it was enough to make me jump. 'Scare Christine' seemed to be a popular hobby at the moment. I turned around and glared at Erik, who merely smiled and didn't even bother to apologise.

"I'm glad you decided to come."

"Yeah, but it's locked." I turned the handle on the door again to demonstrate and then looked at him expectantly. "So what are we going to do?"

Under the mask, I saw Erik's smile widen. He looked almost mischievous, and I was suddenly intrigued by what his intentions were. Without another word he reached forward and took a firm grip on my hand.

"This way," was all he said.

He led me around the building, and once again I braced myself against the rain. Erik, on the other hand, seemed not to notice the weather. He walked calmly, like a man with all the time in the world. Every now and again he turned to look back at me, still with that roguish grin on his exposed mouth and in spite of myself I realised that I was smiling back.

Then, guiltily, I remembered my conversation with Meg. Had she been right when she suspected there was something between me and Erik? True, nothing had happened between us in the romantic sense… but there was something about him that I just couldn't ignore. At first I had been scared at how dark and sinister he was, but at the same time I was fascinated by it.

What if that fascination had become something else entirely?

I caught his watchful eye as he looked back at me once again, and felt the colour rush to my face. When his grip on my hand tightened for just an instant, I felt a shiver go up my spine.

Erik finally stopped by a side-door to the building. I didn't understand why we were even trying, since this door was probably locked to, but then to my astonishment Erik pulled from his coat pocket a collection of files and strange looking keys. I didn't know much about breaking and entering, but I knew a lock pick when I saw one, and Erik was calmly using one on the door as I stood and watched in shock.

"What the hell are you doing?" I asked in a shrill whisper.

Erik only turned to me and calmly raised a finger to his mouth, but my worries were not staunched by his composed attitude. I looked around, just to make sure no one was watching, then took a step closer to my shadowy companion.

"You'll set off the alarm. If they find out we're doing this you'll get arrested and I'll be in serious trouble!"

I watched in shock as his shoulders moved with silent laughter. How could he possibly think this was funny?

"What did I tell you, Christine? I have no intention of getting caught. And I promise you won't be either."

"But the alarm…"

"Christine."

His stern tone of voice silenced me. I knew one more complaint was going to make him angry, so I didn't risk it. But I still held my breath as I heard the click of the lock and Erik pushed the door inwards. Once again I received no explanation, he just took my hand and led me inside, closing the door after us.

In spite of my worries about getting caught, I couldn't deny I was, in some way, excited by this little adventure. I couldn't help wondering what else Erik might have in store for me.

He opened another door, and we walked into the backstage area, which was pretty big and spacious, even with the clutter of old scenery and props. The stage area itself was enclosed in red curtains at the front and the back, so it looked like its own room. The piano was in the middle, just waiting for Erik to sit on the bench and work his magic on the keys. I couldn't wait to hear him play again.

I watched him as he moved towards the piano and then followed after him. The sound of my shoes echoed loudly in the hall beyond the red curtain, and I marvelled at how Erik could move so quietly.

I placed my slightly damp books on the piano and wiped the moisture from my forehead. Then, without thinking, I sniffed loudly. A moment later I felt a hand touch my hair.

"You're soaked," Erik said. He sounded annoyed.

I gave an embarrassed laugh, and sniffed again. "Yeah… I didn't realise it was raining so hard."

"You should take better care. I'd hate for you to catch a cold."

There was silence. I couldn't think of anything to say in the face of his open worry for my well-being. I was genuinely touched by it. Even though Erik had been coaching me through my problems over the past few weeks, he always feigned a lack of concern about almost everything. Maybe it was all part of some tough front, like so many other complicated things about him.

He surprised me again when he insisted I remove my wet school jacket, which had not held up well against the rain. For a moment I shivered from the cold that seeped through my thin shirt, until something warm and heavy was placed around my shoulders. I looked up at Erik, and realised he had removed his own coat. It was wet on the outside, but felt warm and snug on the inside, and I pulled it tight around me to make good use of the warmth.

"Thanks."

He waved aside my gratitude, and gestured for me to sit on the piano bench. I did so, with my back to the piano itself, and watched Erik flip casually through my music. I had never seen him without his heavy coat, and was shocked by how thin he was. He looked as though he had an eating disorder of some kind, with his black shirt hanging loosely over his lean frame. I wished I had the courage to say something about it, but I knew he would only get angry.

With a start I realised that he had stopped looking at the music and was watching me watch him, his grey-blue eyes fixed on my face. I flushed and lowered my gaze, sniffing again and rubbing my nose with the back of my hand. Suddenly, under his intense gaze, I remembered my original motive in coming here to meet him. It hadn't been about my lesson… I had to ask him about Charlotte. Even if I didn't want to know the answer… I had to ask.

"Erik?"

"Mmm?"

I swallowed and kept my gaze fixed on the stage floor. "Can I ask you something?"

I knew I had his full attention instantly. I heard him moving to stand close to me, but I felt too intimidated when I saw him standing over me. So I moved over on the piano bench and offered him the space beside me. At first I thought he was going to refuse, but then he lowered himself onto the seat, leaning forward slightly so he could still see my face.

"What is it?"

I swallowed again. Suddenly Erik's coat was too warm around my shoulders and my skin felt hot and sticky under my clothes.

"I wanted to ask you about the concert… about Charlotte."

There was a tense silence. I risked a look at Erik's masked face and found nothing there to indicate he was angry. In fact he seemed completely unmoved by the question. When he didn't speak I decided I should just go on.

"Her dad said that she'd been poisoned, and that maybe someone did it deliberately."

I wondered if Erik understood what I was getting at. He still wasn't talking so I guessed the only thing to do was come right out with the blunt question.

"Did you have something to do with it?"

The tension in the air was almost suffocating. I could hardly stand it, and felt my heart hammering against my ribs as the silence stretched on. A thousand images went through my head… of Erik's anger and hurt at my question, and suddenly I felt horribly guilty for even thinking he would do this. A lump began to collect in my throat.

"Do you think I had something to do with it?"

Erik's voice was perfectly level, so deliberately calm I knew he was hiding some underlying emotion, although whether it was hurt or anger I couldn't be sure. I forced myself to look him in the eyes, even as my own began to sting with tears.

"I… I don't want to think that you did," I replied. It was the truth. I didn't know if Erik had been responsible for Charlotte's illness, and I suspected that the truth might always elude me. But I knew one thing: the idea that he was involved made me sick to my stomach. I hated to think that he was capable of such a thing.

Slowly, he nodded, and a small smile crossing his exposed mouth.

"I understand why you might think that, Christine. In the past I have not exactly made myself a hero in your eyes. But I would like to think that we can put that past behind us. And… I would like to think that one day you will learn to trust me."

At these words, I felt my urgent desire to break into sobs fade. I felt as though I was seeing Erik for the first time. Even his voice sounded new to me, and more lyrical than it had ever been before. His calm and sweet understanding of my worries… and his sincere hope that I would trust him… suddenly I wanted nothing more than to trust him with all my heart. After all he had done for me, wasn't it the least he deserved?

I think he must have seen this in my eyes, because he smiled gently, and I felt myself return the smile. Perhaps he was right about putting the past behind us. I didn't want to spend all my life worry about the things Erik had done… not when there were so many things about him that fascinated me.

At that moment I saw what Erik was doing. Slowly, almost imperceptivity, he was leaning towards me, a look of fixed determination in his eyes. I felt my heart skip as I realised what he was about to do, and he must have seen my awareness, because he suddenly leaned in faster. I was only given the barest fraction of a second to turn my head away… and even then it was too late for him to stop. The nose of the mask pressed lightly against my cheekbone, and then I felt, though just barely, the brush of his inhumanely cold lips across my skin, and the warmer caress of his breath across my face.

I shivered, and even though I couldn't deny the thrill that had gone through me at the touch of Erik's lips, I was horrified that I had allowed it to happen. I was with Richard! What kind of girlfriend was I if I was allowing another man to kiss me?

His masked face was still close to mine, and I couldn't stand it. After what had just happened I couldn't even risk looking at him. Shaking and feeling sick to my stomach, I got to my feet and let Erik's coat fall away from my shoulders.

"I should go," I stammered. Hastily I put on my own, still damp jacket and picked up my music books with clumsy fingers. I wasn't even planning to say 'goodbye'… I thought it would be too dangerous to say anything. So I just turned and headed out the way we had come.

"Aren't you staying for you lesson?"

I had to stop at this, if only to turn and stare in disbelief at the masked face that looked so blank and emotionless. It was strange… because this wasn't even the usual calm he displayed in the face of my emotional outbursts. It was a rigid control that filled the air with tension… the set line of his thin, pale lips betraying some inner emotion that he was barely able to suppress.

It was too much. I turned and ran out of the hall as fast as I could. I ran all the way back to the boarding house, not caring whether anyone saw me or not and barely noticing the freezing rain that hammered down from the sky.

Once in the safe solitude of my room, I collapsed on my bed and fought the urge to sob into my pillow like a child. Why... why was Erik doing this? Why did he have to play games with me? I couldn't handle it... not more guilt and worry. It was too much.

I raised my head a little and turned, the dark crimson petals of the rose caught my eye. It was still healthy, in its little glass of water... it's petals nowspilled out, exposing the veryheart of the flower.As I stared and stared at the beauty of it, a lump collected in my stomach and in my throat.

Finally I turned my back on Erik's gift. I couldn't bear to look at it.


	12. Chapter 11

Well, I did it. I got 100 reviews on this story. Thanks so much everyone... all those who review every single chapter. You're all great. Unfortunately, I have now achieved my ambition and, as a result, I'm putting this story on the shelf... I won't be updating anymore.

No... I'm just kidding. Couldn't give up this story if I tried. But seriously, life has been getting in the way of writing (which was the reason for no update last week). A lot of stuff is going on and finding time to write is tricky. I will try and stick to my usual weekly updates from now on, but please bear with me.

So... on with the story. I hope it was worth the wait. Enjoy.

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Chapter 11

Sleep did not come easily to me that night. My eyes felt like dead-weights the next morning when I tried to force them open, and as I was subjected to the rude awakening that was the house bell, I knew instantly I couldn't get up. It felt as though the slightest movement would cause me to throw up. My bones felt as though the marrow had been replaced with ice and, on top of all that, I had the most terrible head cold. No doubt my little escapade last night was to blame for this.

I winced. It was probably best that I did not think of that right now.

The bell rang again half an hour later and I still didn't get up. I pulled the covers over my head to block out the sound of chattering girls making their way to breakfast and waited patiently for the inevitable. Pretty soon one of the younger girls knocked on my door, obviously assuming I had slept in.

"Christine? Roll call."

I gave a moan to demonstrate my condition. "I don't feel well."

"Do you want me to get the nurse?"

"Nurse would be great," I murmured, and heard the door shut behind the girl. Within minutes the nurse, who lived in the boarding house and took care of everyone living there, arrived with a thermometer. After hearing my symptoms and taking my temperature, she told me to go back to sleep for the morning, and we would see how I felt at lunchtime.

I would have been only too happy to fall back into a numb, dreamless sleep, but my mind was already awake, even if it was slightly foggy, and I felt my nausea escalate as I remembered Erik… the feel of him sitting close beside me on that bench, and the sweet sensation of his lips brushing against my cheek. What made me feel so horribly guilty about the whole matter was how, no matter how much I tried to deny it, the memory of that feathery-soft kiss thrilled me.

And it shouldn't, damnit! I had a boyfriend. Richard was my boyfriend, not Erik… and Erik knew it! So why had he kissed me? More importantly… why hadn't I done more to stop him or ensure it would never happen again? I couldn't chance that… I didn't want to betray Richard in any way. Even if I wasn't sure our relationship was going anywhere, I didn't want to be the type of girl who yielded to every temptation thrust in her path.

At least I could content myself with the fact that nothing more had happened. And I'd make sure it never would. I knew that if anything did, I would hate myself for it.

I panicked for a moment. Should I avoid Erik from now on? It might be best… easier to prevent a repeat of last night. But… oh god, I didn't want to have to go that far. I knew I could never allow myself to get too close to Erik, but at the same time I didn't want to cut him out of my life completely. I was a grown up, after all… nearly enough anyway. I could control myself if I had to.

But even if I did not act on my emotions, I still had to deal with the fact that there were emotions there at all.

After tossing and turning for a good half-hour, I finally drifted off into a feverish sleep. When I woke up and checked my watch it was around 11:15. Break time. I could hear people moving in the room above me and outside in the corridor. Then I was aware of someone coming right down the corridor to my door, and I waited for the knock, which came about two seconds later.

"Yeah?" My voice sounded horribly groggy, but I didn't have the energy to sound cheerful.

The door opened, and I raised my head from the pillow to see who my visitor was.

"Hey, Chris."

"Meg?" At the sound of my friend's voice I immediately began struggling to sit up, but I hadn't even gotten halfway before she was pushing me back down again.

"No way… you're sick. You stay lying down."

I tried protesting, wanting to sit up and talk so I could apologise properly for my grumpy behaviour last night. It had been just one extra thing to feel guilty about, and I wanted to get it off my chest. But she told me firmly to lie back down and since I didn't have the energy to argue, I did, watching as she grabbed the chair at my desk so she could sit closer to me.

"How are you doing?"

I replied by pulling a face. "Awful. I haven't felt this bad since… well, never."

Meg made a sympathetic noise, and then, before I could say it myself, she burst out with; "I'm sorry about yesterday."

"What?"

"I shouldn't have stuck my nose in. It was none of my business. And I really shouldn't have implied that you… well, you know. It was really stupid and unfair."

I felt like crying all over again at hearing her say this. "No… it's okay. I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have got so mad at you."

"Oh, you had every right to be mad," she insisted, sounding angry at herself suddenly. "You know how I am though… gossip-monger…"

"Oh yes, I know," I agreed, giggling slightly at her confession.

"It was just… you mentioned an Italian guy, I got this image of some sexy Italian hunk… and then I thought how horrid it would be if you and Richard spilt up. I just got ahead of myself." She frowned suddenly. "He does know you're unavailable, right?"

I nodded. Even if we had never spoken about my relationship with Richard, Erik knew about it. He knew practically everything that was going on in my life, why shouldn't he know about Richard as well? But even so, he managed to treat our relationship as if it wasn't really an issue. Almost as though he was pretending nothing was happening at all.

Meg nodded as well, a look of grim determination on her face. "Good… because we don't want him getting ideas, do we?" And she gave me a knowing grin and wagged her eyebrows suggestively.

I couldn't help but smile back at her. Even if Meg's gossiping might irritate me sometimes, her concern about me and Richard was a reminder of how good a friend she was… to both of us. It was comforting to know she was there to hep me through my first relationship. I only wished that the little guilt pangs would go away when I remembered just how close I had been to living out Meg's worried fantasies.

"Well, you don't have to worry about anything, okay?" I reassured her. "Nothing's going on." Oh, how I wished that were entirely true. But I was determined not to let anything happen again. I didn't want to do anything to jeopardise my relationship with Richard. He meant too much to me.

Speaking of Richard… "You didn't say anything to Richard, did you? I don't want to make him paranoid."

Meg contrived to look deeply hurt by the question. "What kind of girl do you think I am!" Then she grinned. "No… I'm not that dumb. Your secret Italian hunk is safe with me."

I laughed, but more at a private thought than Meg's joking around. I think she would have been quite surprised by the difference between the dark and sinister Erik and her romantic dream man. Although, I had to admit… Erik did hold some kind of attraction. The aura of mystery and danger… it was something plenty of women found attractive.

_Definitely not the kind of guy you'd take home to your parents_, I thought with a grin.

Meg soon left me alone again, having to rush off back to lessons. In the quiet I lay on my back, staring up at the ceiling and, in spite of myself, thought of Erik.

By evening I was feeling better enough to come down for supper. I hadn't eaten all day and I was hoping my stomach ache might be partly down to lack of food. I sat at the table with Meg, chewing slowly on some lightly buttered toast and listening to the other girls talk before resignedly heading back to my room, resolved to get on with some work. My head was still slightly foggy with cold, but I needed to at least try and keep on top of my work. My absence from class today would probably have set me back too, I realised unhappily.

I pulled a tissue out of the box on my desk and blew my nose as I sat down. I hated colds more than anything on earth. They certainly made me appreciate being able to breath properly. Sniffing loudly and continuously, I picked up my pen and started writing a first draft of my English essay.

After about half an hour of working solidly I took a break and went to get some tea, in the hopes that it would help clear my head. When I returned to my room with the steaming cup in hand, I heard my phone ringing, and picked it up, recognising it instantly as an international call, and knowing what that must mean.

"Hello?"

"Hi, sweetheart."

It was such a welcome relief to hear my father's voice over the phone. "Hey, dad, how are you?"

"Better than you, by the sound of it," he said, laughing. Obviously he had picked up on my slightly muzzy tone. "You sound like death warmed up."

"You should have seen me this morning. I was ready to be put to sleep for good."

"I'm sure," he agreed, still laughing, but this time I detected a slight hesitation in his amusement that worried me. Already I could feel myself tensing up for some bad news.

"Is everything okay over there?"

"Oh yes, everything's fine…" He was a terrible liar. I knew that whatever was the matter, it couldn't be along the lines of Joseph or Paula being seriously ill, otherwise that would have been the first topic of conversation. But something was definitely up.

"Actually…"

_Here it comes…_

"… I needed to talk to you about something."

Even though I knew he wouldn't see, I frowned down the phone. "What?"

"Well… you know how your half-term's coming up in about two weeks, right?"

I faltered. Truth be told, I had almost completely forgotten about the week's holiday that was to come. For a second I was jubilant at the thought that I would be going home, and then I pulled myself short as I remembered my father had something serious to say about it, and I felt a twinge of apprehension.

"Yeah, I remembered," I said finally.

"Well…" I could hear him fumbling for the correct way to tell me, but a part of me somehow already knew what was coming. "You know how tight things are at this end. We're still adjusting to life here… and we need things to be stable for that to happen, you understand, right? We can afford to fly you back and forth from school at the beginning and end of terms… but at the moment… it's just not practical to do it at half-term. Not when you're only going to be here for a week."

There was a pause. I realised he was waiting for me to respond with something, but for a few moments I was silent, if only because I knew if I spoke it would instantly betray my anger and deep, deep disappointment. The lump that had been gathering up in me divided. Half of it stuck in my throat, threatening to burst into a torrent of sobs… the other half dropped heavily on my gut and reawakened my earlier feelings of nausea, only now they were far more potent.

I swallowed hard, and felt my eyes stinging.

"Okay…" I finally managed, although my voice was little more than a whisper.

"I understand you're disappointed," he said, and he truly did sound upset by having to break this news to me. "Believe me, if we could get the money to fly you home… we would."

"Yeah…" I agreed, then held the phone away from my mouth so he wouldn't hear the little shuddering breaths I was taking in to fight my tears.

"I thought maybe you could stay with a friend. Or if you can't, maybe we can arrange for you to stay with Paula's sister. Whatever you want, sweetheart."

_Whatever I want_, I thought bitterly. What I _wanted_ was to go home, pure and simple. I wanted to be with my family… the family that I hadn't seen in almost two months and only spoke to once a week. Was that really too much to ask? Was it such an unreasonable request after my life had been completely uprooted around me against my will? When had what I wanted ever come into any of this?

But… like always… what choice did I really have?

"I'll…" The bile was collecting in my throat again and I swallowed it down. "I'll see what I can do. I'll sort something out."

"Good."

I could hear the relief in my father's voice and it only made my mixture of anger and misery worse. I felt so impotent… unable to speak my true thoughts because I didn't want to upset the people I cared for, even though I knew it would not be unreasonable for me to be angry. But I choked down my emotions, even as I listened to my father's casual voice as he said he had to go, and he hoped I would feel better soon. It sounded as though he had washed his hands clean of the matter… cleared his conscience…

As soon as the phone was back on the desk a wave of nausea gripped my stomach so tightly I felt as if my insides were being squashed by a steamroller. I rushed out of my room, clutching my mouth and stomach and headed swiftly for the bathroom. There, I hung my head over the toilet bowl and retched violently, my whole body heaving and dripping with hot, feverish sweat. And the sobs which were coming at the same time did nothing for me. They only made my throat painfully raw and every muscle in my body shake uncontrollably.

It was about twenty minutes later before I had the courage to leave the bathroom. The sickening feeling in my stomach had lessened, but not enough to make me feel entirely safe. The hot sweat had turned cold and clammy against my skin, and I was shivering as though I was walking through the Arctic.

Once back in my room, I poured a glass of water and drank slowly, trying to get the disgusting taste of vomit out of my mouth. I hiccupped loudly, and felt the sobs well up again.

Why? Why did life seem to continuously knock me down? I hadn't done anything to deserve it, had I? All I wanted was to go home for a week… take a break from everything. That was what I needed right now… after everything else that was happening. And now I couldn't even do that.

My phone began ringing again, and I tried to collect myself together. Whoever it was, I didn't want to let on that anything was wrong. Fighting the sobs and nausea I picked up the phone.

"Hello?"

"What's wrong?"

It was Erik, and the sound of his voice over the phone, filled with genuine, warm concern was almost too much. I didn't even bother to wonder how he automatically seemed to know something was wrong… and I forgot all about my resolution to stay distant from him. Just knowing he cared was enough to make the sobs I had been holding down begin to build up again. My breathing became erratic and harsh as I tried to form the words to answer his question.

"It's alright, Christine," he said in a soothing voice. "Just tell me what happened."

And I did, slowly and with many breaks in between caused by my crying. By the end my queasiness had escalated to the point of vomiting, so I hung my head over the small sink in my room, retching dryly. I felt sorry for Erik for having to listen to me cry and throw up… but he remained quiet, listening patiently to every word and waiting until I had finally settled down once more.

"Why didn't you say anything to him?" he asked, referring to my father.

"I just couldn't," I sniffed. "I knew he would fly me back home if he could. It's not his fault that we can't afford it."

"Even so… you have every right to be upset. And you keep saying that you hate being distant from your father. Don't you think this pretence is increasing that distance?"

That was true, I admitted. Every time I hid my true feelings from my father I felt as though we were drifting further and further apart. I had never intended for that to happen. All I wanted to do was make things as easy as possible for him… regardless of what I felt or went through because of it.

"You should really start to consider your own feelings, Christine," Erik said, when I explained this to him.

"Yeah… but…"

"There is no 'but', Christine," he interrupted severely. "You are wearing yourself down. For once you should do what makes you happy."

"But how?" I murmured dismally. Even if Erik was right, it didn't change the fact that I couldn't go home. Even if I called my father and explained how unhappy I really was with the situation, what good would it do me or anyone? There was a long silence at the other end of the phone, and I knew he must have been thinking very hard about the situation. I prayed he would come up with some solution… some piece of advice… like he had always done in the past.

"I'm sure something will come along, Christine," was all he said in the end, and I bit my lip, since this had not been the answer I was hoping for. But he went on, "You still have more than a week before anything needs to be arranged."

I agreed, but only half-heartedly. I couldn't help feeling immensely let down by him. In the past few weeks I had always been able to depend on him for support and advice… why couldn't he be that wonderful, brilliant guardian now? I supposed I should be grateful that at least he had called to comfort me… especially after what had happened between us last night. But still… I needed something more than this.

"You should sleep, my dear. Otherwise you will feel even worse in the morning."

I laughed bitterly. "Fat chance. I feel like I'll never sleep again."

"You will sleep." His voice was both firm and soothing. I could tell he had something in mind. "Do you want me to help you?"

"How?" I couldn't help but feel intrigued by this unusual offer.

"Go and lie down," he ordered softly. I obeyed without question, switching off my light and slipping into bed with the phone still held against my ear. At his request I settled down and made myself as comfortable as possible under the cool sheets, snuggling into the pillow and trying to force myself to feel tired.

"Now just shut your eyes, my dear."

I did, still wondering what exactly he intended to do. I found out only seconds later when his voice reached out, soft and warm and beautiful, even through the phone. He was singing… I didn't, despite my wide repertoire, recognise the piece that he sang, and although I heard words that sounded familiar to my ears, most of its meaning was lost to me. All I really understood was that it was a song unlike anything I had ever heard… so soft and comforting. And Erik sang it with such tenderness that I felt myself drifting away… my closed eyelids beginning to feel heavy now. My body relaxed… every muscle unwinding and stretching out in contentment… I knew within minutes I would be sleeping.

Just before I let myself fall into that safe, warm blackness, I was suddenly aware that Erik's voice no longer sounded so strange. Its beauty sounded clearer, as if he were singing right into my ear, instead of through my phone… as if he were close to me.

I made a vain attempt to struggle upright. But I soon gave up trying to turn my head to the open window and attempt to see into the darkness beyond. Somehow… I felt as though I didn't need to look.


	13. Chapter 12

Okay... trying to get back into the weekly update thing, but life's still a bit hectic around here. But... here's the latest chapter for you. I hope it's not a disappointment for one reason or another... please keep the reviews coming in.

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Chapter 12

I woke up the next morning feeling more rested than I had in weeks, even months. It was the most wonderful feeling… as if every trouble I ever had was a dream and nothing at all was wrong with my life.

Then, obviously, that fragile illusion shattered. My body felt better, but my head was still very much in turmoil over every little thing from school work to the news I had received only last night. Not even the sound of Erik's voice, which seemed almost like a dream too, could rid me of the realities I had to face.

But I had little choice but to face them. Another day in bed, doing no work and not attending lessons… wallowing in my own self-pity, was out of the question, unless I wanted to drag myself further down. I didn't want matters to get even more out of my hands.

Not that I felt things could get much worse than they already were.

So, in spite of my mood and everything else, I dragged myself out of that bed, dressed like a brain-dead zombie and shuffled off to the dining room for breakfast, praying that nothing else bad was going to happen to me today. I swore that if I had to deal with one more problem I was going to snap.

My less than cheerful disposition was duly noted by everyone else at the table, who leaned forward to hear what exactly was wrong. I related the story to them and although I could see the sympathy in their faces, I noticed that none of them offered to help me out by inviting me to stay. I wasn't particularly motivated to try and find an alternative to going home and spent the entire day in a sulk, only explaining it to a few who pressed me to find out why I was upset. But I was sent into a panic the next day because the housemistress said anyone living abroad had to report to her about their plans for half-term and I still wasn't sure what I wanted to do. Secretly I hoped that Meg would offer to help me out, but before I could work up the courage to ask her, she gave me an unfortunate reminder.

"I wish I could help you out," she moaned as we walked back from class. "But I guess if you can't afford to fly to Rome you can't afford to fly to Germany with me."

I cursed silently in my head. That's right… Meg lived abroad too. And I couldn't really expect her to pay for my flights. In fact I didn't really expect anyone to take me in for that holiday. Not because I thought they disliked me... more because I assumed they would all want time to themselves for the holiday and I didn't want to intrude. I would probably feel the exact same way if I were in that position.

Unfortunately, on this occasion, I was left with the short end of the stick, and time was running out. Pretty soon I would have to inform my housemistress of my plans for half-term, and at the moment I had no idea as to what I might do. My last resort would be to stay with some of Paula's family, an idea that was not wholly appealing to me. Not because I disliked her family, but the fact that I didn't know them perhaps as well as I should, and it was liable to be an uncomfortable week if I did end up staying with them.

"Any idea what you're going to do instead?"

I woke myself out of my thoughts and shrugged in answer to Meg's question as we walked back from class.

"I don't know. If nothing else comes up I'll be staying with my step-mum's sister and that…" I trailed off and made a demonstrative slitting motion across my throat. Meg made a sympathetic face before focusing her gaze over my shoulder somewhere.

"Here comes trouble," she said with a wink. "I'll make myself scarce."

She darted off with a quick goodbye before I could work out what she meant, but when I turned I saw Richard heading in my direction with a look of enthusiasm on his face that confused me. It wasn't in keeping with his initial expression of concern when I told him about my half-term holiday crisis. I'd only managed to briefly explain to him what was going on yesterday and he'd looked upset and worried for me.

"What's up with you?" I asked as he got close enough to kiss my cheek, and I could see clearly the gleam of excitement in his brown eyes. "You look like you've won the lottery or something."

"Not quite," he beamed happily. "I've got some good news for you though."

"Oh good…" I muttered, though without much conviction. "I like good news."

He shot me a pretend scowl and then took my arm, leading me quickly away from the other students rushing around the busy courtyard. I was intrigued by his inexplicable fervour and itched to hear whatever it was he had to say. Once we had found an empty classroom Richard shut the door behind us and turned to look at me.

"Okay, come on. What's got you grinning like a Cheshire cat?" I asked, unable to hold back my own smile.

"You're going to love me for this," he insisted. "I called my parents last night and told them how you couldn't go home for half-term. And I asked them if it'd be okay for you to come and stay with us. They said it'd be great, since they haven't seen you for years. What do you think?"

For a few seconds I could only stared in surprise. He was still grinning as if he had come up with the solution to world hunger, and I was temporarily speechless at the generosity of the suggestion. But quickly my gratitude was supplanted by the strange realisation of how unappealing the offer was. My initial reaction was to be happy that someone was offering to take me in at all, but this was clouded over by the fact that this was Richard, not one of the other girls. Richard was a guy… and even though I was touched by his offer, and wasn't adverse to the idea of seeing his parents again after so long, I couldn't help feeling concerned and more than a little hesitant.

Richard must have seen something of my feelings written in my expression, because his excitement died down a little and his handsome face contorted into a frown.

"Are you okay?"

Realising that I had to say something, even if it was a polite refusal, I swallowed and tried to smile.

"That's really sweet, Richard. I really appreciate it."

The frown remained in place. "But?" he prompted when I hesitated again.

"But… I just don't know if it's a good idea. I don't know if I'd feel comfortable with it."

"What are you talking about?" he asked disbelievingly. "You always liked my parents when we were little."

Inwardly I winced, and saw the danger of the conversation that was sure to follow. How was I supposed to tell Richard, my boyfriend, that it was staying with _him_ was what would make me feel uneasy. Even if we had been going out for over a month, I wasn't ready for the pressure I was sure would come from staying with him in his home for a week. Even here at school I sometimes felt pressured to take our relationship a step further… something that I did not feel ready for.

But how could I tell Richard this without hurting his feelings?

"It's… it's not your parents…" I began.

Almost immediately he caught on to what I was thinking and I saw his expression slowly change to one of intense hurt.

"You don't want to come and stay with me?"

Hastily, I tried to undo the damage I had already done. "It's not that I don't want to. I just don't think I'd feel comfortable with it."

I realised I was repeating myself, and that this wasn't doing anything for the situation. Richard seemed to be forming his own misconstrued explanation of my emotions and when he next spoke, it was with pronounced bitterness.

"You think I'm only doing this to get you in bed, or something? You think that's the only reason I want to go out with you?"

I was too shocked to respond for a few seconds. It was barely a question at all… it was more like a statement of fact. He actually thought that was my reason. But I didn't believe for an instant that Richard was that kind of guy, and had not meant to imply that I thought as such. Yet, at the same time, just because he wasn't pushing for a more physical relationship to the extent where we were having sex didn't mean there was no pressure, whether it was intentional or not.

"I don't think that," I insisted.

"Seems like it to me," he remarked snidely before I could finish.

"Don't be like that," I said, feeling more than a little exasperated by Richard's unnecessary sulking. "I know you're not deliberately trying to pressure me into anything… but I just feel weird about the whole thing."

My hopes of placating the sudden rift that seemed to have unexpectedly appeared between the two of us were dashed when Richard laughed bitterly.

"Well if you feel that way, what the hell are we doing?"

I stared at him, disbelieving. Did he really just say that? And did he mean what I think he did? He never gave me the chance to ask, because he went on almost instantly, making assumptions that only made matters worse.

"I suppose this is the real reason you've been avoiding me? All this work is just a convenient excuse for you, right? I mean… for god's sake, Christine… if you feel 'weird'… like don't want this relationship to go anywhere… then why did we even start going out?"

Now it was my turn to be hurt. He was actually accusing me of deliberately avoiding him… when he knew I wouldn't do any such thing. He knew I had a lot of work and how important it was to me that I do well… so to me this accusation seemed horribly selfish. I didn't understand why he was being so unreasonable about it, and even though I knew it wouldn't help matters in the least, I responded angrily to the indictment.

"In case you haven't noticed I have a hell of a lot of work to do, Richard. I don't think it's very fair to accuse me of avoiding you."

"Then why, when I ask you to come and spend some time with me, do you say no?" he asked nastily.

"I told you why," I pointed out, exasperated beyond belief by Richard's behaviour. "I know y-"

But before I could finish making my point Richard raised his hands to silence me. "Let's just forget about it," he said angrily. "Forget I even asked." And with that he turned and stormed out of the room.

Staring after him, unable and unwilling to follow after him, I leaned against a nearby desk and wrapped my arms around my stomach. It was hard to believe what had actually happened. Richard and I had never had an argument before, and although this was really a series of misunderstandings and badly explained feelings, it seemed to have highlighted a hitherto unaddressed flaw in our relationship. Up until now I had never addressed the reasons why I was so reluctant to go the extra step with Richard, despite how much I liked him. But it was clear that, if we didn't reach some understanding soon, things were going to fall apart.

If they hadn't already, of course.

Later that day I told Meg the whole story while we were sitting in her room drinking tea. Her opinion of the argument was somewhat divided. To her, it appeared we had both been pretty unreasonable and, as much as I hated to admit it, she was right.

However, when she offered to help smooth things over between the two of us, I asked her not to.

"Why not? Don't you want to get back together with him?"

I shook my head. "It's not that. I mean… he had a point. I didn't feel comfortable moving on with him. There must be some reason for that."

I saw Meg nod in understanding, and then a flicker of suspicion in her eyes.

"It's not because of… you know who, is it?"

I stared at her, and for a second had trouble figuring out who she was so enigmatically referring to. Then I remembered what she knew, and finally caught on.

"Oh no…"

"Oh come on, Chris. Look, I know you're not the kind of person who'd cheat on their boyfriend… but that doesn't mean you can't feel attracted to someone else. You're only human."

I shook my head hurriedly. Even if it were true and I did feel some kind of romantic attraction to Erik… I didn't think that was the cause of my relationship with Richard coming to a standstill. I knew now that Erik had some romantic intention behind his frequent calls and, more recently, his visits… but it wasn't fair to blame him or whatever feelings I might or might not have for him for my problems with Richard. And I wasn't even ready to admit that there were feelings there worth contemplating.

"No," I said firmly. "It's nothing to do with him. I just need to get my head round a few things. You know… work out whether I want to be with Richard in the girlfriend sense or just be friends."

I looked at Meg's raised eyebrow and knew she wasn't entirely convinced, and dreaded the thought of what little ideas might be working their way inside her head. By some extraordinary stroke of luck I had managed to avoid talking to her in any great detail about Erik, but obviously she had not forgotten about the "Italian hunk". I hoped she wasn't going to start asking questions now… I really was not in the mood to dodge around, trying to work out how much I could safely tell her.

Instead of defending myself I simply returned her sceptical look with a deadpan one that eventually wore her down. We managed a small giggle between ourselves, and then, finishing the rest of my tea, I left, feeling a little insecure in myself.

Even though Meg knew little to nothing about my friendship with Erik, I couldn't help wondering if she had a point. She was quite often right about things like this… reading people's emotions and seeing what was going on in a situation even when the people involved couldn't.

_The outsider sees most of the game._

For the next two or three days I wished I _was_ the outsider. It certainly would have made things easier. Richard avoided me most of the time, and when we were forced together in lessons he was coldly polite and the atmosphere was tense. Meg continuously hounded me constantly, saying I should try and make things work with him, but I refused her help in the matter and as a result we did not reconcile with each other. Meg insisted that if one of us just apologised it would make the world of difference, but I stubbornly refused to do so, and apparently so did Richard.

I also began to worry about where Erik was. I had not heard anything from him since the night when he sang me to sleep, and while I still had Meg to talk to I felt, in his absence, I felt more and more isolated from the world. I also couldn't help wondering whether, if I were to see him again, I might finally start to work out what exactly was going on between us, now that Richard and I were all but finished as a couple. Maybe, if Meg was right, seeing Erik again would finally allow me to sort my head out about everything else.

I certainly hoped it would.

Finally, only six days before the holidays were due to start, it appeared there was no other choice left to me, I was prepared to tell my housemistress that I would be staying with my step-mother's sister and her family. Then all I would have to do was check with my father. I had pretty much resigned myself to the fact that there would be no last-minute miracle. I wasn't going home… end of story.

I was only just returning to my room, having finished my final lessons for the day and anxious for something to eat. It was already dark outside and I quickly went to shut my window to stop the bugs getting inside.

It was then I saw the pristine white envelope sitting on the window ledge. It looked as though someone had dropped it through as they passed by. There was no name written on it, but it could only be for me and, confused and worried, I slipped my finger under the seal and worked the sticky flap open carefully. When I pulled the single piece of folded paper from inside my hands were trembling, but I bit my lip and spread it out.

I felt my eyes widening as I read, over and over again, the words printed in bold black:

_**Christine,**_

_**I have some very urgent news. Come to the Assembly Hall as soon as possible. Do not, under any circumstances, fail to be there.**_

**_

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_**

Sorry... no Erik in this chappy and a bit of a cliffhanger to finsh off. I'm so cruel, aren't I?


	14. Chapter 13

Oh... I couldn't bare the cruelty of making you wait a whole week for this. It was a particularly nasty cliffhanger. So here's the latest chapter. I've got a good feeling about it, hehe. Enjoy!

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Chapter 13

I stared numbly at the letter, waiting for the ominous words to sink in. Only one person could have left it here, and it worried me... no terrified me,to think of what this 'news' might be. It didn't help me in the least to think that Erik rarely treated anything with this kind of urgency. What problem could possibly warrant a note such as this?

Something inside me twisted up. What if Erik knew something about my family that I didn't? I hadn't heard from them yet this week. Maybe something had happened to them and I hadn't been contacted.

I was frantic with worry… almost to the point of making myself sick. I couldn't eat my food at dinner, and I paced my room impatiently for nearly an hour afterwards, waiting for a time when it would be safe for me to make a break for the Assembly Hall and meet Erik. Minutes dragged by at a snails pace before my patience ran out completely and I grabbed my coat. I didn't bother with my music or anything else…all that mattered was getting to the Assembly Hall. The housemistress didn't appear to notice my rushed and anxious manner as I requested permission to leave the house, and neither did anyone I passed on my way.

The sky over the courtyard was full of bright glittering stars and the few clouds that hung above were lit up at the edges by silvery moonlight. It was beautiful… and at any other time I would have stopped to appreciate it. But not tonight. Tonight I only gave the sky a brief glance before moving quickly to the big double doors. But to my intense frustration, they were locked once again. I was ready to try and kick them down… anything to get to the man waiting inside with his urgent news. Then, finally, I remembered the side door Erik had shown me before, and ran around the building in the hopes that I would find it unlocked.

To my relief, it was, and I charged up the steps to the backstage area, nearly falling over in my rush. By the time I got to the stage, shrouded in its red curtains, I was out of breath and had a terrible stitch in my side. There was barely enough air in my lungs for me to call Erik's name.

"Erik?" I gasped, looking desperately in every shadowy corner.

Finally, a white mask materialised in the dark around the mass of backstage props, and a tall figure stepped into the light.

"I'm glad you could make it," he said simply.

I was in no mood for his cryptic pleasantries. Without another word I rushed at him and, not even thinking about what I was doing, gripped him by the arms. He didn't seem at all phased by my actions, but even more surprisingly, he didn't appear that anxious either.

"Erik…" I was still breathless from my run. "What's… going on?"

"Calm down," he said serenely, brushing my hands from his arms and placing his own firmly on my shoulders. He gazed down at me with infuriating calm. "Everything will be alright."

Oh god… that's what people always said when something terrible had happened. I felt the beginnings of hysteria building up inside as I went through the endless list of scenarios… the horrible things that could have befallen dad, Paula… even little Joseph. After everything else that had been happening to me, why did something have to happen to them?

In growing panic I clenched my hands into fists around Erik's coat. I was so close to him and could even feel the rise and fall of his chest beneath my fingers.

"What's happening?" My voice was strained with suppressed tears. "Please…"

But he hushed me gently, and I felt his grip on my shoulder tighten in reassurance. "Don't cry, Christine…" and as he spoke he reached into some inner pocket of his coat. My eyes flicked from the shadowed eyes beneath the mask to the white envelope that he slowly drew out and then handed to me. At first I didn't want to take it… as if it were a plague-ridden rat that would infect me… but finally I grasped it in my trembling fingers and sniffed loudly, preparing myself for the worst as I prised open the seal.

I took out the contents slowly, and stared numbly at the pieces of paper in my hand. It took a long time… or what felt like a long time to me, for the reality of what I was holding to sink in as I read what was printed so clearly on the paper. A ticket… to Rome. And behind it another… travelling from Rome back to London Heathrow. The dates… the name printed on there… everything matched. They were for me… to take me home.

Speechless and numb with shock, I lifted my head up from the plane tickets and stared up at Erik… and realised that he was smiling. Smiling broadly and generously… and I could see the sparkle in his grey-blue eyes… the knowingness.

"You…"

I couldn't finish speaking. Moments ago I had wanted to cry with fear and misery… now I could have screamed with happiness. All that held me back was the confusion… the complete unexpectedness of this show of generosity on Erik's part. I could think of nothing to say in the face of it. 'Thank you' would have mocked the kindness he was showing me.

"Why?" That was all I could muster in the end.

The sparkle dimmed… became more serious, but lost none of its softness. I felt a light touch against my hair as he stroked curly strands away from my face, gazing at me with an emotion that both thrilled and startled me.

"I knew it would make you happy," he murmured, his lips barely moving as he spoke.

'Happy' was barely an adequate description of this emotion. What I felt bubbled up inside me like a volcano ready to erupt. The shock had stopped me before, but suddenly I felt an explosion inside my heart that was almost painful. I stared up at Erik, then looked down at the tickets again, making sure they were not some kind of desperate illusion. I felt breathless again...

"Oh god… thank you. Thank you so much…"

Bodily instincts took over once again. Just like in my panic I had gripped Erik… my first impulse now, in my excitement, was to throw my arms around him. And I did…swift and quickly I reached and put my arms around his neck…

… or… I _would_ have put my arms around his neck. But to my intense surprise my show of gratitude was halted abruptly by Erik himself. Like a cornered rattlesnake he leaned back and away from the reach of my arms… and then lashed out, grabbing my wrists so tightly I nearly cried out in pain and dropped the tickets and envelope, which fluttered to the ground between us. Almost immediately the crushing grip lessened, but the sudden, tense atmosphere that had descended was not so easily dispelled. I was wide-eyed and trembling from Erik's reaction, and even he seemed shaken by it.

Feeling that I must have done something wrong, I tried to form an apology. I wet my lips nervously and lowered my hands a little. But Erik did not let go of them.

"I'm sorry…" I stammered uncertainly. "I didn't mean to -"

"No," he said, cutting me off abruptly. I flinched at the sharpness in his voice, and when he saw this he immediately softened his tone. "No… it's alright." And, as if to prove it, he let his grip on my wrists slide, and I felt his gloved fingers intertwine with my own instead, strong but still gentle and comforting.

But I still tried to explain… feeling that it was needed… feeling as if could thank him forever and still feel grateful. "I just… I can't believe you did this for me." I laughed softly just thinking about it. "I don't know how to _begin_ to thank you."

He shook his head and then reached out again with his gloved hand, touching my cheek with the backs of his fingers.

"Knowing that I've made you happy is more than enough."

I still couldn't believe it, and as I gazed up at him I shook my head slightly in a show of that disbelief, feeling my cheek brush against the leather of his glove. I had never thought that anyone in the world would do something like this for me… would care enough about my happiness. It was overwhelming… so much so I thought my heart was going to swell and burst with it.

"Thank you," I whispered again.

We stood there smiling at each other, so close I could feel the fabric of his clothes against mine… and suddenly I grew aware of the deep intimacy of it all – Erik's hands… one clasping mine, the other caressing my cheek… and his eyes gazing at my face and into my eyes with their own kind of urgency… barely contained behind his calm exterior. I knew instantly that something was about to happen… something monumental… and as Erik bent his mouth to mine I found myself unable to make a single move to prevent it.

With all Erik's coolness… his gracefulness and care-free attitude, I would never have expected his kiss to be so… tentative. His lips rested on mine as though I were an exquisitely fragile creature that might break under the slightest of pressure. His lips were slightly cold, and felt strange somehow… different to anything I could have expected, but I soon laid this aside as I felt Erik's other hand rise, so that now he held my face in his two hands, tilting my head back so he could deepen our kiss. I was so caught up in the sensation I allowed him, merely placing my hands against his chest, feeling his heartbeat under my fingers.

I didn't know how long he kissed me… I was only aware that I didn't want him to stop, especially when he began to move his lips over my cheeks, my forehead… even my closed eyes. The nose of the mask, smooth and cold, brushed against my skin too, but somehow this only added to the pleasurable sensations I was experiencing, and I welcomed it. It was only when I sighed that Erik drew away to look at me, and I stared back at him, eyes glazed and mouth slack. He seemed much the same… dazed by what had just happened. It was so unlike him I almost laughed, but the moment was too precious for that.

I was slowly coming back to reality, remembering where I was and what was happening, but Erik seemed more reluctant emerge from the dream, because he began to pull me closer… more certain of himself now. This time there was more passion behind his kiss, but I knew I couldn't allow that. Not now… not yet. I gave in for only a moment, then pushed gently at his chest and lowered my head. He didn't force me to continue… instead he softened his grip and drew away a little.

"I'm sorry," I murmured, reaching up to my mouth as I felt the delicious tingle where he had kissed me. "I'm just… I think it's…" I struggled for words to explain my reason.

He nodded, and his expression was unreadable. "It's too soon."

I turned my face up to him and frowned. Did he know about what had happened between me and Richard? About our fight?

He must have read the question in my eyes because he traced my jaw with a fingertip and smiled softly. "I know everything about you, Christine."

It sounded so overly romantic, but somehow it rang with truth. Erik really did seem to know everything about me. Sometimes I felt he knew me better than I knew myself… something that I had never felt before with another person. It was comforting, yet strange. Months ago I would have laughed at the idea that someone like Erik would be closer to me than even my own father. Now I was curiously accepting of it.

I smiled and allowed him to kiss my forehead before stepping away from him at last. My whole body felt strange… jittery, like a little schoolgirl, and I reproached myself a little for it. I knew I shouldn't be feeling this way… not so soon after my fall out with Richard. And I certainly shouldn't be acting on my feelings. But I hadn't been able to resist… it had felt so natural and I could still feel the tremors running through me as I locked away the memory of Erik's touch and his sweet kisses, to be savoured at a later time.

"I'd better go."

Another nod, but no words.

"Good night."

"Good night."

I turned and began to walk towards the door, biting my lip to resist the temptation to turn back… to stay.

"Christine?"

Erik's voice halted me and I felt my heart jump. What was he going to say now? I turned to find out.

"Forgetting something?"

I stared at the plane tickets held in his hand, which I had dropped earlier, and flushed at my own absent-mindedness. I really was turning into the giggly, airhead now. Red-faced and smiling nervously I returned to him and plucked the tickets from his gloved fingers. His smile and his eyes teased me mercilessly even as I turned to leave again.

"Good night," he said again.

But I didn't reply. I was staring down at the tickets… at Erik's thoughtful and generous gift, and was suddenly seized by panic. I half-turned back.

"Erik?"

He waited for me to go on.

"You're coming back too, aren't you?"

In the shadow of the mask, I saw the reassuring smile spread on his thin-lipped mouth, and I already knew the answer.

"Of course."

I returned his smile and nodded. I still wished I could have thanked him more for what he had done… but there was nothing I could think of to say. Maybe one day I'd find some way to repay him… it would be the least I could do.

As I made my way across the courtyard, I marvelled at how wonderful life seemed to be now compared to before. Suddenly everything felt better. I was going home. How I was going to explain my good fortune to my father didn't bother me… I'd think of something, and hope he was too glad to have me back home to be suspicious.

I smiled all the way back to my room, where I safely placed the tickets in my top drawer. I could go to my housemistress at evening roll-call and give her the details. Right now I had work to do… and I went about it with a new-found vigour. I was elated… nothing could bring me down tonight.

"Thank you, Erik," I murmured softly once again.

As if in answer, a cool wind blew in through my still open window, swirling through the room and sending a sweet chill down my spine and under my skin. My body trembled with it from head to toe and left me yearning for something I couldn't yet find a name for.

But I sensed somehow that the answer would not lie to far from me now. Somewhere, out in the darkness, it was waiting… and I would find it no matter what.


	15. Chapter 14

Here's the new chapter. I feel so tired at the moment... so I'm sorry if it's not up to usual standards. I'll probably redo it later... some of this story needs tweaking, IMHO. Like the changing perspective in chapter nine... thank you to the reviewer who pointed that out! It has now been corrected. 

Anyway... on with the story.

Edit: I did a bit of rewriting of this chapter since last night. Not much has changed... I just felt it needed fleshing out a bit more, if you see what I mean. See you in a few days for the next update!

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Chapter 14

The knowledge that I was going to go home, after the certainty that I would be stuck in England, away from my family, carried my mood happily through the rest of the week. I was barely daunted by having to explain this strange turn of events to my dad… who was delighted I was coming home, but curious.

"Where'd you get the money from?"

"I had some saved up… and then some of my friends pitched in." God, I hated having to lie… but telling the truth would mean telling him about Erik, and I knew that would be a huge mistake. I'd spent last night thinking up ways to dodge around the question of where the money had come from, and decided that I would come as close to the truth as I could safely get.

"You've got some very generous friends there," he said, laughing.

_You have no idea,_ I thought privately, still hardly able to believe for myself what Erik had done. Just thinking about it… about him… brought a smile to my face that everyone at school noticed. Especially Meg.

"You're lucky," she told me. I had to tell her a slightly different story… that my dad had changed his mind and decided I could come home after all. I didn't like lying to Meg any more than I liked lying to my father, but even though she knew a little about Erik I didn't need her jumping all over the fact that my mysterious friend was now buying me trips back home. God only knew what sort of conclusions she might draw from it.

Of course, now I was faced with the rather embarrassing truth that Meg had probably been right all along. Maybe I had been kidding myself about Erik and my feelings for him. My thing with Richard was…

"Yeah… it was pretty lucky," I said, avoiding thoughts of Richard for the moment.

But it looked like Meg wasn't going to allow that to happen, because next she said as casually as possible; "So you weren't at all tempted to stay with Richard?"

I looked back at her with a raised eyebrow. "You talked to him… didn't you?" It wasn't really a question. Meg had guilt written all over her face and I threw up my hands in frustration. "Ahh… Meg! I told you to leave it."

"Hey… if I left it to you two, nothing would be happening at all."

"Well maybe that's the best way," I snapped, without thinking. Instantly Meg's interest was piqued and I gave an inward groan at her expression of curiosity, knowing what was to come.

"You don't want to get back together with him?" she asked. To her credit, she did look genuinely upset and I couldn't help feeling guilty that all her worries and effort had been for nothing. She'd always been adamant in her opinion that Richard and I were perfect for each other and I could remembered going along with it at first, even being flattered by the idea of what a perfect picture the two of us made. But maybe this picture perfect situation was not what I wanted after all…

"I think it's for the best," I told her simply, not really wanting to elaborate on my reasons, which were barely _my_ reasons at all.

"You're not even going to talk to him?"

I sighed. No… I was going to talk to him about the whole matter. Even if we did not get back together I still wanted to set a few things straight. I didn't think being his girlfriend was the best things… but at the same time I didn't want to lose his friendship, which I still valued a great deal. If I could salvage that at least from this mess then I could be happy, and relatively guilt-free. Besides, Meg would never let me get away with not talking to him.

"When?" Meg prompted impatiently.

"Before I go home," I said, almost confirming it with myself more than Meg. I wasn't exactly looking forward to that difficult conversation.

"When you next see him?"

I gave Meg a suspicious look. "You're not going to drop this, are you." She gave a grin and a little shrug, causing us both to break into giggles. I was so glad to have her around recently. She gave me a kind of support I had not quite encountered before, even in Erik. Meg's friendship was unconditional… but sometimes I felt that Erik's was not. It didn't take much to upset him… whether it was intentional or not, but Meg had a calmness about life and everything in it that I envied. Maybe it was because my life had been so chaotic recently… I rarely had time to be calm and relaxed anymore. It almost made me wish that my life was back to its usual, boring routine.

But I did as Meg said, and shifted nervously all through English class that day, waiting until the end to pull Richard to one side. As glanced across to him, I couldn't help wanting things to be back to the way they were. Just over a week ago, we would have been sitting together, giggling quietly behind the teacher's back… holding hands under the table. I might not want to be his girlfriend anymore… but I still missed him as a friend. But now he was on the opposite side of the room, acting as though I didn't exist.

Finally the bell rang, and we were dismissed. I packed up my things in a rush to get outside before Richard, ready to double back and catch him as he left the classroom. When he walked past me, I grabbed his arm firmly, determined that he wouldn't pull away.

When he frowned down at me, I didn't know what to do. I couldn't even offer a nervous grin.

"Can I talk to you for a second?"

He looked ready to make some bitter, smart-ass comment in reply, but seemed to think better of it, because his mouth set into a grim line and he nodded. I pulled him down the corridor and into an empty classroom, hating the horrible sense of deja-vu that was coming over me. I hoped that this time we would not end up in an argument.

"So?" he asked, stuffing his hands into his pockets and giving me the look of someone whose patience would probably not last long.

I took a deep breath and, choosing my words carefully, began to speak. "I think we both owe each other an apology." I watched his face carefully, but he only raised his eyebrows and waited for me to go on. "I didn't mean to imply that you were only after me for… well, for sex. And I don't think I gave you a good enough reason for saying no about staying with you. So I'm sorry."

He lowered his head, and I looked on as he sighed, and appeared to consider my apology. I hoped he would accept it, and give me the one I felt I deserved in return. So, when he looked up, and I saw that some of the steeliness in his gaze had vanished, I felt a glimmer of hope.

"Well…" he said after a pause, "I guess that's something. And… I guess I overreacted a bit." He grinned suddenly. "Maybe a lot… if Meg's anything to go by."

Even through my surprise at seeing him smile, I felt a twinge of annoyance. "Meg's been talking to you?" He nodded, and I gritted my teeth, making a move as if to strangle the absent Meg. "Oh… that girl is dead when I get hold of her."

Richard continued to smile at me, and I forgot about Meg's little match-making antics in the face of his new good humour. I smiled back at him and, before I realised it I found myself saying; "I miss you, Richard. I hate fighting with you."

What I said must have hit a nerve, because I saw him swallow painfully and could have sworn he was holding back tears. I couldn't remember ever seeing him so hurt… not even when we were shildren. For a second I had a horrible image of him shouting at me that I had betrayed him… that somehow he knew about Erik… that Meg had maybe let slip about my strange friend, and I would be forced to confess things I really didn't want to confess. But then he appeared to recover himself and swallowed again.

"I know. Me too. And I'm really sorry, Christine."

The rush of relief was invigorating, and I felt myself break into an uncontrollable smile. Without a second thought I went to my childhood friend and put my arms around him holding him tight against myself. There was a tense moment before he responded and wrapped his own arms around me. We stood there for minutes, saying nothing… just enjoying the feeling of being friends again, before I began to pull back.

That's when it happened. I pulled away, but his arms stopped me from going too far, and before I knew it, he was leaning in to kiss me. Oh god, I should have seen it coming… I shouldn't have allowed him to think that just because we had made up we were back to the way we were. But I hadn't made it clear… and so when I turned my head away, I expected and saw the hurt come back into his expression.

"I'm sorry," I said hastily, not wanting to undo everything. "I just…" This was going to have to be a phenomenally good explanation. "I just don't think we should… be together that way."

His forehead creased, and his expression remained hurt and confused. "But you said…"

"I know… and it's true. I missed you, as a friend. I don't want to lose your friendship, Richard. And… maybe the best way to avoid that is to stay friends. Friends and nothing else."

Inwardly, I braced myself for an angry onslaught… a hurt outburst… but instead I got a pained, hurt silence that was much worse. Guilt welled up, even as I acknowledged that this was probably for the best.

"That's all you see me as?" he asked quietly. "Just a friend?"

I faltered. How did I see Richard? I couldn't be sure… all I could remember… and all that made sense to me, was the conversation that had taken place between Erik and I only two nights ago, during one of our little, late-night music practices in the Assembly Hall. I could still feel his hands touching my long curls, weaving them between his fingers as he spoke to me, coaching me through my scales.

"Erik?" I asked when there was a break in our music.

As often happened, he only murmured to show that I had his attention. It had been so hard to concentrate on my question though… with him stroking my hair so tenderly, and the way he was humming hadn't helped in the least. The tune wove into my thought pattern and seemed to want to lead it in other directions of its own choosing… but I refused to give in to that spell at that moment.

"It's about Richard."

Both the humming and the soft caresses stopped abruptly. I knew that I should have expected it. We had never spoken about Richard before in such a direct way, and certainly not my relationship with him. But I had needed his opinion on something… I was too confused to figure it out by myself. Still… I felt nervous knowing I had touched on a delicate subject, and feeling his gloved fingers so close to my neck made me extremely wary.

When he didn't speak, I decided I would have to go on… anything to put an end to the stony silence that had descended on us. "I don't know what to do about him. I feel bad that we had a fight and everything… but I just… I don't know if I…"

I had trailed off, feeling stupid and frustrated at being unable to articulate my thoughts properly. But to my surprise, Erik seemed to understand. From behind me, he spoke softly and evenly…

"Perhaps you see him in a different way to how he sees you," he suggested reasonably. "I've seen you with him - your reluctance…"

I awoke a little from the trance-like state I had been lulled into. Even though I readily admitted to what Erik called my 'reluctance', I couldn't help being disturbed by the idea that he had been watching me and Richard together. How long had he been watching? I could hazard a guess at why after what had happened between us but…

Erik's fingers brushed my forehead as they resumed their tender caresses over my skin and hair, and my train of thought grew hazy once again as he continued speaking.

"Perhaps… he is merely a part of your past. A memory… best left in peace."

I tried to question this… it sounded such a strange thing to say, but Erik's caresses seemed to prevent coherent speech and I barely managed a questioning murmur.

"He reminds you of a time when your life was simple… when your family was complete and your world was a safe place. He is from that memory when your mother was alive… that memory you want so much to be a reality."

In spite of so many things wrong with this view, I could feel myself steadily beginning to see the point behind Erik's argument. Perhaps it was just some repressed feelings from all those years ago… mixed with the nostalgia I felt at remembering those times – like when Richard and I had gone swimming in the river near my house and both come down with a fever… which my mother had nursed me through. Or all the time when she used to sing me to sleep when I woke up from some horrific nightmare. Just thinking about those times now brought to the surface that deep sense of longing. It wasn't that I regretted the way my life was now… not all of it anyway. I loved my family… Paula and Joseph were part of my family now.

But this didn't mean that, now and again, I didn't wish my mother was still alive.

"Perhaps you shouldn't see him anymore," said the soft voice behind me. "It's unhealthy for you to think like that."

My exact thoughts towards this advice had been confused and hesitant… I wasn't entirely sure how correct this guidance was. After all, Richard was my friend if nothing else…

"Christine?"

Richard's voice brought my speeding back to the present time and I shook my head. For some reason my thoughts felt all foggy… as if my brain were full of sticky cobwebs and I had to really concentrate to see clearly through them.

"Sorry…" I mumbled like someone who'd just been woken up from a deep sleep. "I just don't think we see each other in the same way." Almost instantly I realised I was starting to reiterate Erik's own words, and I put a stop to that instantly. I had wanted Erik's opinion… not a prepared break-up speech. I remembered something that I had wanted to say. "I think it would be better if we just stayed friends… at least until I get my head sorted out. You said yourself we never have enough time together. It's not fair for me to tie you down like this."

There was a pause as my words sank in, and I watched his face carefully to see his reaction. It had seemed reasonable enough to me and as I saw Richard nod slowly, I knew he saw the reasoning behind it too. He even, to my astonishment, smiled down at me.

"So this is more like a break?"

I faltered. That wasn't precisely what I had had in mind and I braced myself for a possible misunderstanding.

"It's a bit more than that, Richard," I told him as gently as possible. "I need some time to myself… no commitments. I just can't deal with so much at once… it's running me into the ground."

To my relief, and slight guilt, my point seemed to sink in this time, but even though the disappointment was clear on his handsome face, there was a warm friendly understanding that I welcomed the sight of.

"We still get to be friends though, right?" he said just before I left.

Even as I remembered Erik's words… his recommendation to stay away from Richard to avoid complicating my emotions, I knew that I couldn't do any such thing, and I readily agreed that we would still be friends, no matter what. I didn't care if Erik was right about my feelings for Richard being just the product of nostalgia… he was still a good friend; one that I didn't want to give up.

As I sat in the coach the next day, on my way to the airport, with Chopin's _Waltz in C sharp Minor_ playing softly in my ears, I felt more at peace with life than I had for some time. Relaxed and ready for a week of doing as little as possible, I couldn't help smiling at the possibility that everything might, after all the fuss and drama, turn out okay in the end. I had time to get my head straight now… time to be with my family…

And, an errant little thought told me slyly, time to be with Erik.

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Sorry... not muchErik. But don't worry, he will be appearing much more over the next few chapters. I hope Christine's little flashback of the conversation with Erik was clear enough. I didn't think I needed to put it in italics... but if that would make it easier for some people, please let me know. 


	16. Chapter 15

I would have got this chapter up earlier but couldn't. Blame the electrical storm we had, okay? Anyway... I think a lot of people have been looking forward to a chapter like this so I hope it doesn't dissappoint. Enjoy!

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Chapter 15

Late evening in Rome and I had finally arrived at the airport, dragging my bag after me into the departure lounge and scouring the crowd for familiar faces. I was nearly bubbling over with excitement, jumping up and down on the balls of my feet to try and see over the heads of the multitude around me.

Finally I caught sight of a woman with a young child in her arms. For a second the tot obscured her face, but then she turned, and I recognised Paula instantly. Soon we were heading towards each other, and I saw my father close behind them. They all looked as happy as I felt, and I dropped my bag to put my arms around them tightly.

"Oh god, I missed you," I said over the noise of the busy airport.

"We missed you too, honey," my dad replied, squeezing me tight.

"Even this little one." At this, Paula passed little Joseph over to me, and I laughed at seeing his little baby grin again.

"Haven't you grown, you big baby," I giggled, cooing gently at him as we began to make our way out of the terminal, my dad picking up my bag for me. It wasn't quite dark outside yet… with a faint pink and yellow light still hanging over the buildings to the west. And it was still quite warm, even though it was late October.

"One plus to living further south," my father laughed when I pointed this out on the drive home.

It felt wonderful beyond compare to see everyone again, and to finally be in the place I called home. Even though I had only spent a few weeks here over the summer, I recognised some of the surroundings as we drew close to our neighbourhood, lit up by the dim yellow streetlamps. I wondered how much the house had changed since I had last been inside. No doubt it would be much nicer now, after more than two months. No boxes, everything unpacked and in its place… it would finally look like our home.

We pulled up outside the house and I dragged my bag up to the front door excitedly, nearly jumping up and down as my father took his time locking the car and coming up to unlock the door. When he finally did so, I stepped inside, and was happy to see a complete change. The hallway was clear of boxes, and the wooden boards looked squeaky clean up and down. In fact the whole house looked as though it had been cleaned especially for my homecoming, except for a few of Joseph's toys lying around the place. All the furniture had found its proper place, not carelessly placed in any old way. Everything had an order to it that I welcomed after all the chaos I had been going through.

Inside my room too, everything was far more orderly than how I had left it. The walls had been painted from its original, pristine white colour to a deep, ocean blue, with just the barest hint of purple in the colour. It would be perfect in the summer, I knew… when I'd need a refuge from the heat outside. I remembered mentioning it to Paula... I was glad she had decided to go ahead with my idea.

Sighing with relief, I sat down on my bed and kicked off my shoes, then slumped back against the dark purple pillows, which gave under the weight of my head delightfully. Grinning to the world in general, I looked forward to having a relaxing week.

And I knew just how to start it off too…

Quickly I unpacked a few of my things and headed for the bathroom. One of the worst problems with living in a boarding school with dozens of other girls was having to share the few bathrooms there were. It would be nice not to be rushed through a shower because there were other people waiting to use it. So I stood there under the streaming water, watching the steam rise up and fog the window as I rubbed my greasy hair clean… then filled the bath with bubbly water and lay there until my hands and feet were wrinkled, soothing my tired muscles. I could have spent hours in there, but Paula was shouting me down for supper, so I changed quickly into my bed clothes and rushed down the stairs to the kitchen.

"Have a good bath?" my father joked at seeing me so flushed from the heat.

"Heavenly," I said, sitting myself down.

Over a meal of spaghetti carbonara we had our first full and proper conversation in months. That was another great thing about being home, I realised. I could actually talk to my family for more than ten minutes at a time. There was so much I hadn't been given the chance to tell them over the phone. I told them, in detail this time, about the concert, about Meg and Richard… although I left out certain details that I felt too uncomfortable to explain… and they listened intently to everything. It was wonderful to know that nothing had really changed between us… that they still loved me.

Well of course it hadn't, I told myself. They were my family… they'd always love me.

I sat in my room long after they had gone to bed, listening to the CDs I had left behind. A pad lay on my desk and I doodled idly as some of the greatest piano concertos played softly through the earphones. As my mind wondered, I couldn't help asking myself where Erik might be at this point. Had he followed me back straight away? Maybe he was already here now… back in that underground home beneath mine. I reminded myself to thank him again when I next saw him… it was just too good to be true, being home again.

Then I heard it. Just hidden underneath the sound of my music, I heard my name being called. At first I thought it was either my imagination or my father was calling me for some reason. I lifted one ear piece away from my head to listen, but everything was quiet. But just as I was about to replace the earphones, I heard my name again… and it wasn't coming from my parents room.

_Erik…_

It took all my willpower not to leap up from my chair and run down the stairs to find if Erik really was here. But I only got as far as my door before remembering my parents were asleep down the hall. After that I moved as if my life depended on silence… pausing at every creak in from the floor under my feet, listening carefully for any warning that my father or Paula were awake. But there was no sound. Even Joseph was sleeping like... well, a baby.

I negotiated the stairs and finally began moving with a little less caution on the balls of my feet to the basement door. I opened it and shivered slightly as a waft of cold air rose and engulfed the bare skin of my arms. A memory stirred… a sense of deja-vu that almost made me think twice about continuing. But then the voice drifted up from the darkness beyond the stone steps, and I couldn't resist its beautiful call. I took these stone steps more carefully, groping for the cord that would bring me some light. The bulb was dim, but it was enough to see that the basement was disappointingly empty. All that I could see were the shelves of tools, old magazines and various knick-knacks that had been thrown down here because there was no better place for them.

Then I noticed the dark, empty space in one corner, and remembered with nervous amusement that our basement did not end here. Erik's 'front door' was open… and obviously I was meant to go through it.

_He has to be kidding_, I thought to myself. I remembered what happened the last time I went in there… my arms and legs, in fact my whole body, ached at the memory of the rough treatment I had received when Erik had dragged me down there on that first fateful encounter. Granted I wasn't being dragged this time… but I certainly wasn't risking going down there in the pitch black.

But Erik was down there. And I had to see him.

Quickly, I glanced around the basement and, luckily, spotted an old and slightly dusty torch on one of the shelves. I picked it up and pushed the switch. To my frustration, the bulb glowed weakly, and it took a few whacks with the palm of my hand to get the little bulb anywhere near the brightness I was comfortable with.

Taking a deep breath, I aimed it into the tunnel. The light bounced of the stone, but it only showed me a few feet ahead. I would still have to go very carefully. I wasn't keen on tumbling down some steps and breaking my neck. So I went, one step at a time, down the tunnel, grateful that at least I had some light from the basement still shining through.

That is, until I heard the sound of stone scraping behind me. I turned in panic, only to watch the entrance seal up, apparently of its own accord, leaving me with nothing but this dim flashlight.

"Fabulous," I muttered to the world in general as I turned back to the tunnel. Now it appeared I had only one option.

But I hadn't taken one step before the torch in my hand flickered. I froze in instant panic.

"Oh no…" I said as it flickered again, and then began to fade. "Please no…" I smacked it with my hand again and rattled the batteries in the casing, feeling the dread rise as it made not the slightest difference and the darkness began to close in… and finally took all the light from around me. Generally I wasn't scared of the dark, but I'd never experienced this kind of inky blackness before… the kind that you felt on your skin and in your bones… the kind that made me want to sit on the floor and not move one inch.

I was ready to do precisely this when I felt something cold touch my arm. The sound that I let out was not really a scream… it was a kind of cartoonish yell that to anyone else must have sounded remarkably funny. It certainly seemed funny to the man whom I now shared the darkness with. I could hear the familiar chuckling close by me.

"Having trouble with your light?" Erik's voice asked, his amusement more than apparent.

A string of obscenities lined up inside my brain, but in the end I settle for a half exasperated, half relieved sigh.

"Erik… you nearly gave me a heart attack!" I reached out and managed to locate his chest, and swatted it angrily. He chuckled again and caught my hand.

"My sincerest apologies," he said.

For a few seconds I struggled to get my breath back and calm my heart down to a more regular beat, until I received another shock as a match was struck against a wall and not to far from my face. I jumped in surprise, and then looked up into Erik's shadowed eyes. For some reason, seeing him in this strange light made me tremble… and brought back some disturbing memories I would rather have forgotten.

His free hand was still resting lightly on my arm, and I felt it move up to my shoulder, gliding across the bare skin of my neck to touch my cheek and gently trace the line of my jaw. For the first time I realised he was touching me with his bare hands… something he had never done before in all the time I had known him. This thought brought a tiny smile to my lips, one that Erik returned, his eyes nearly glowing with intense emotion. Just before the match went out, he bent his head, and I felt his mouth press lightly against mine.

The kiss lasted only a moment. Then he pulled away and struck another match against the wall. This time he held it to what seemed to be an old-fashioned oil lamp that had appeared apparently from nowhere. I gave him a quizzical look, but he only smiled and held it up so that it could shed its light.

He held out his hand. "Come with me. I want to show you something."

For a second I didn't respond. I only stared at his hand… the long fingers… the pale flesh… the way they seemed so thin, with the knuckles and tendons showing plainly through the skin. Again I found myself wondering about his health. How could it be healthy for someone to be that thin?

I shook myself hurriedly. I didn't want to insult Erik by refusing to take his hand, so I placed mine in his, refusing to allow myself to react to how cold his bare hand felt. Instead of shivering I tightened my grip and smiled up at him as he turned to lead the way down to wherever it was he wanted to take me. I watched my step all the way, careful not to stub my toes or slip as we made our way down a flight of stone steps. Erik's small lantern didn't give out much light… barely as much as my torch had. I looked down and realised I still had the useless thing in my hand. With a careless look I let it fall to the ground, leaving it behind in the darkness.

We carried on like this for some time, moving steadily down into the depths of whatever catacombs existed beneath the streets. More than once I wasn't careful enough and did bash my toes on loose stones or catch my heels on steps. Once I knocked the same toe twice and hissed painfully through my teeth. Almost immediately Erik turned his head to look back at me.

"Be careful."

Smiling at my own stupidity, I nodded and we continued on in silence. I tried to take in my surroundings, memorise them… but I soon gave up. It all looked the same to me. In a strange way it reminded me of one of those optical illusion pictures, where the stairs seemed to defy gravity itself and people walked upside down and every way imaginable.

Finally we seemed to reach some sort of end to the steps. Down was no longer an option… so Erik turned and began heading down a narrow tunnel. How Erik had ever managed to negotiate all these stairs and tunnels in pitch darkness I couldn't begin to understand. He seemed to have eyes like a cat and I could barely see even with the lamp he held. Maybe it was just another eccentricity of his… one more strange aspect of his character to add to my list.

Then, abruptly and for no reason that I could see, Erik stopped. I almost didn't notice and collided with his back, eliciting an embarrassed laugh from me. I smiled up at him as he looked at me with something I could only describe as affection. It felt strange to apply such a word to him… and yet now I began to wonder if he hadn't looked at me in the same way many times before.

Without taking his eyes from mine, he reached up and pressed a section of the wall. It didn't give way under his hand, and there was nothing about it to suggest it was anything other than a part of the wall, but a few moments later I heard a sound already familiar to me. Stone scraping on stone… and I watched as an entire portion of the wall seemed to shiver slightly, and then turned as if on a pivot, half way around to reveal another, hidden passage way. And this one, I noticed instantly, had light at the end of it. A glowing yellow light.

This time Erik did not lead me down there. Instead he gestured for me to go ahead, then quietly blew out the little flame in his lamp. Unable, as usual, to disobey his gentle insistence, I made my way towards the light, feeling my way along the narrow tunnel with a hand on each wall. I felt Erik's presence close behind me… and it helped a little. As I moved closer to the source of the light, I realised that it came from an open room… more like a chamber. And the light did not some from one source, but dozens and dozens of sources… candles.

Finally I emerged from the tunnel and into the open chamber. The change in atmosphere and surroundings was almost instant. There were no more closed spaces. Instead I felt as if I had walked into some deep, underground building. Looking up I could just see stone arches, offset by more jagged, un-sculpted stone. It was so high up I guessed we could have parked a three-storey building in this one room. I half expected to see bats circling up there. Dizzy from looking up, I had to lower my gaze back to my own level. Everywhere I was surrounded by candles… some big and tall, some small, barely more than piles of melted wax. Some of them were set into the stone walls… into windowless ledges and tiny alcoves… but others were standing it candelabras… beautiful and decorative. Safely out of reach of the little flames were drapes… some black some red… all with delicate gold trimming. I reached out to touch the nearest one, feeling the thick, heavy fabric between my fingers. It felt so wonderfully soft I wanted to bury face in it.

But instead I looked at the rest of the chamber and took a step further in. As I did so the ground beneath my feet changed. I looked down and instead of the cold stone was a magnificent Persian carpet whose tasselled edges spread across nearly the entire floor. It felt luxurious under my bare feet, and was so delicately woven with intricate designs I felt dizzy simply looking at them.

There was so much space everywhere. Lower parts of the ceiling were held up by thick stone pillars. One or two of them were half-collapsed, but still held the place up sturdily enough. That still left a huge open space in the centre, which was covered by the carpet. As far as I could see furniture-wise, there was a desk off to one side, carved expertly from dark mahogany and covered with papers and books that I couldn't see clearly from where I stood. Close to the desk were some shelves carved out of the wall, in which were stacked more books and ledgers. This place was large enough on its own, but I noticed some of the drapes hung over half-concealed openings leading, I guessed, into other 'rooms'. The more I looked around the more I became convinced that this had been some abandoned place of worship that had been converted into Erik's home. All that was missing were the pews, the stained glass windows and the holy symbols, of which there was not one. I was tempted to go and explore when I caught sight of something else.

It was a piano. Or, at least… something remarkably like a piano, though not one I had ever seen before in my life. In fact I was tempted to assume it was, in some way, home made… pieced together from other pianos perhaps. It was standing at the top of three stone steps, as if it were substituting for an altar. That shouldn't have surprised me really, given Erik's love of music. I approached the unusual instrument and reached out, wanting to test its sound and somehow knowing before my fingers touched the keys that it would sound crystal clear and perfect.

It did, and I shut my eyes as the chord resonated throughout the chamber, the echo it created both eerie and beautiful. I smiled serenely and closed my eyes to better appreciate the sound as I sensed Erik moving to stand behind me, and felt his hands slip either side of me to rest on the piano keys. A melodious and hypnotic series of chords rose from beneath his fingers as he played, and I watched fascinated as his thin yet graceful hands moved with deft confidence across the notes.

And as his hands played a melody, his lips began to softly explore the exposed flesh along my neck. I murmured with barely contained pleasure at his delicate kisses, feeling them trace the tendons in my neck and up to just below my ear. I shivered as I felt his breath there, and then his voice whispering directly into my head.

"Welcome home."


	17. Chapter 16

Here's the next chapter... lots of Erik and Christine goodness for you to enjoy!

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Chapter 16

For a long time I just stood there, leaning back against Erik's body and feeling him near me, surrounding me. His fingers lifted from the keys of the piano and slipped around me, holding me gently to him. I couldn't withhold another soft sound to express the strange and wonderful pleasure his embrace was evoking inside me.

Eventually his arms moved to my waist and he gently turned me around to face him. I was still half dazed by what was happening… not entirely certain if this was real life or just an extremely vivid dream. I stared up at him through a strange euphoric haze, feeling almost drugged with emotions and experiences. His fingers traced little patterns against my cheek as he looked down at me and smiled in return.

"So this is home?" I asked quietly, half teasing him.

The smile on his exposed mouth broadened slightly. "Yes."

"It's beautiful," I said, aware of the absurdity of the conversation we were having. It wasn't as though I was standing outside, admiring some great mansion. But it was true… it was beautiful. For an abandoned church in Rome's catacombs, this place seemed to echo an era long since past. It was like I had walked through a time warp into some place that existed centuries ago... I looked down at my clothes and had to contain a laugh at how out of place I was in my pyjama bottoms and vest top. "It's so Gothic," I said, glancing around the large chamber again and half expecting to see stone carvings of angels and gargoyles, but there were none visible, although I could see some mounds of stone covered in large cloths that may well have been statues.

Erik nodded, but kept his gaze fixed on my face. "Yes… I've always found such things strangely appealing."

Yes… I imagined it would appeal to his particular taste. The dark and brooding shadow that hung over that period in time, it seemed in keeping with Erik's own mysterious character.

"I'd never think something like this existed down here."

He nodded again. "That was what I had in mind," he said with a mixture of irony and sullenness.

I stared at him… wondering about the meaning of his words. "You actually made this place?" I asked, sceptically.

"'Made'… not exactly. It has been here for a long time… I simply restored it. It wasn't exactly an ideal dwelling at first."

I could well imagine. This place could well be centuries old, for all I knew. It couldn't be healthy to live down here. And yet I felt perfectly at home. Apart from the lack of windows it was hard for me to remember that we weren't in a church somewhere aboveground. Even the air down here felt good. What would it have taken to make this place look so magnificent and feel so comfortable?

"A bit of a fixer-upper?" I said with a wry smile, one that Erik took with a lot more good humour than I might have expected. In fact, he smiled in return, which gave me a wonderful lift inside. It was good to know that I could tease him now without fear of provoking his anger.

"You could say that a little vision was required," he agreed, then looked around him, thinking to himself. "But it was ideal for me. Down here there are no disturbances… no visitors." He smiled warmly as he looked down at me. "Up until now, at least."

Blushing, I lowered my head, only to receive a light kiss on my brow from Erik. In a way, I felt honoured to be here now, especially knowing that he wasn't exactly the kind of person who liked visitors. Even if he hadn't said so himself, it was plain to see that the whole purpose of this domain was to be alone. Down here, in his underground home, Erik seemed to have created an entire world only for himself… to conceal himself from everything that lay above the surface. It was so sad to think that he lived here alone… so far away from the rest of humanity. What kind of person felt the need to go to such lengths?

Something must have shown on my face, because Erik grasped my chin in his fingers and gently but firmly forced my head back up to look at him. He was very serious now… but I could still feel the warmth of his concern.

"What's the matter?"

It would be useless to avoid answering, or worse lie to him. He would know. Deciding it would be best to simply tell him exactly what it was that I was thinking I gazed up at him and directly into his worried grey-blue eyes.

"How long have you lived down here?"

At the question he gave a tiny, almost imperceptible shrug, but I caught the look in his eyes… the pained look that he seemed so desperate to conceal… a hint that maybe this life he led was not what he wanted at all.

"A long time," was his only answer, and it only made me feel worse for him. I stared up at him, aware that suddenly he was uncomfortable… less sure of himself than usual. He seemed to want to go on, but hesitated. "I've… always preferred solitude."

I couldn't help but wonder why. This was so much more than solitude. It was more like a prison sentence… one that I didn't understand and couldn't help questioning.

"Why?"

The instant the question was out of my mouth I felt the change in the air. Up until that moment the chamber had felt pleasantly warm, no doubt from the presence of all the candles around us. But now it was as though the warmth had been sucked out of the air… as though Erik were so attuned to this place in which he lived that he controlled the atmosphere within it… that it somehow reflected his mood. His eyes glared coldly about him, steely grey and frightening. If my back hadn't been pressed against the piano I probably would have taken a few steps away from him.

"A lack of any other choice," he said, his voice as chilly as the air. He pulled away from me, his arms slipping from my waist, tense and stiff with angry bitterness. I bit my lip, knowing I had made a mistake and wondering desperately how to rectify it.

"Sorry," I murmured, hoping an apology would have some effect.

It didn't.

"Why should you be?" Erik snapped irritably. "It's hardly your fault."

A tiny thought at the back of my head said "then why are you getting angry with me?" but I knew he was angry at the world in general, not at me in particular. I wish I had some idea why, but he was in no mood to share anything now. It was a good thing his back was now turned to me, because I wouldn't have liked him to see the expression of nervousness on my face. I was never sure what to do when he was this way… and this black mood seemed worse than any other before now. I hated that it was so easy to make him angry… yet so difficult to make him his normal self again… but there had to be something I could do.

Tentatively, I took a step closer to the black shape. It was like edging closer to a wild animal that might turn around and attack if one wrong move was made. With infinite care I reached out and placed a hand against Erik's back. He barely made a move… just a slight stiffening of the muscles along his spine. When he didn't turn and strike my hand away, I placed my other hand against him, twisting my fingers around the fabric of his coat, almost massaging his back. Gradually I felt some of the tension lessen, and smiled, even as I acknowledged with a hint of revulsion the feel of the protruding bones of his ribcage and spine through his skin. But it didn't completely disgust me to feel these things… it was more worrying than anything else. I didn't understand how anyone could care so little about their own health to let themselves get to this stage… to the point where they were little more than a skeleton.

This thought disturbed and upset me so much that I stepped right up behind Erik and pressed my face into the deep groove between his shoulder blades, nuzzling into him like a little cat seeking attention. I wondered if he had his eyes closed… if he was savouring this experience… if he was smiling. I wanted to say something that would bring him back to me, but nothing came to mind that didn't sound horribly cliché and melodramatic.

So I just held myself against him, slipping my arms around so they completely encircled his waist and clasping my hands against his stomach. My heart was thumping almost painfully inside my chest, hoping desperately for a reaction of some kind, but Erik still didn't move or speak, until I couldn't stand it any longer and spoke his name very quietly.

"Erik?"

Still nothing. Even an angry dismissal would have been better than this cold, emotionless front he had put up. It was if he was dead… the only thing to indicate otherwise was the fact that he was still standing and I could feel his breathing coming slowly and steadily.

I couldn't bear it a second longer. I released my grip and came round so I could see him face to face. Or, nearly face to face. I had no idea what expression he hid behind that mask now, and even his eyes were no clue, because he had shut them tight. All I could gather was that, inside him, some painful battle was being fought… his mouth set in a thin, hard line. He was so caught up in his thoughts he didn't even appear to notice that I was standing there in front of him.

My lips pressed together and then I nervously ran my tongue over them, preparing myself for something. Slowly I allowed myself to take that final step, so I was right up against him, my hands now on his chest. Now his eyes did open, finally registering my presence, and I tried to smile bravely for him, even when I saw that there was no emotion in those eyes. Then, instinctively and because I couldn't see any other way out of this stalemate, I raised myself up on the tips of my toes and pressed my mouth against his. He was so tall, and I had to stretch up so far that I nearly lost my balance and practically fell against him, but he stayed upright, supporting me, and I remained, kissing him… but feeling nothing in return.

Then, miraculously, I felt a softening around his mouth, and then the sweet sensation of his hands on my bare arms, daring to bring me that little bit closer to him. Something had broken through, and I felt an unusual sense of triumph at having brought him back from whatever dark place he had retreated to inside his own mind.

The passion grew… intensified, until I thought I would drown in it like a swimmer lost at sea. Erik's hands slipped up from my arms, tracing along my shoulders and neck, leaving shivers across my skin so cold they were burning. Until finally he held my face, his palms against my cheeks and his fingers curling into my hair and round the back of my head, pressing against the scalp as if he couldn't kiss me deep enough any other way. His heart was throbbing under my fingers, but I wanted my body against his.

Deftly, I tried to slip my arms up and around his neck, so I could press myself more fully against him, even entwine my fingers in his black hair. I felt bold enough to do so now. But just as my hands slid over his collarbone I felt a sudden panic seize him, his entire body tensing up. But this time he controlled it, and steadily took one of his hands from my face, using it to clasp both of mine, immobilising them.

His mouth had never left mine even as he did this, but my confusion briefly eclipsed my passion. It was the second time he had refused to allow my arms to go around his neck. What was he so afraid of? Didn't he trust me? And if so, then why not? Had I ever done anything to make him distrust me? I certainly couldn't think of any instance when I had.

Whatever it was, I soon lost my train of thought as Erik's kisses began to flow over my cheeks, down the curve of my jaw and then down my neck. My head tilted back to allow more room for him to kiss my throat and I sighed as his lips travelled further and further down until I felt their cold touch on my collarbone. In spite of myself I broke into a little giggle. It was so inappropriate, given the seriousness of the moment, but his mouth was so light it was like someone brushing a feather against my skin. When he pulled back, staring at me to see what exactly I found so funny, I flushed.

"Sorry… it tickled," I murmured. I very nearly let out another giggle, but it was arrested by the look in Erik's eyes. He was not smiling, but he didn't look angry either. Just deadly serious… and I felt a worried lump rise in my throat. But he didn't say anything… he only pulled me to him again and kissed me… only now it was so fierce and heated it almost hurt. I could feel my lips swelling from the pressure of his mouth until I had to pull away, breathless and, in a way, frightened.

"Sorry," I said again, as if it was my fault. Managing to tug one hand free from the iron grip he held over them, I began raising it to my mouth to touch my swollen lips, but stopped when I saw just how white the fingers had gone… starved of blood by Erik's grip. I'd been so caught up in the passion of his kisses I hadn't noticed the numb tingling there.

Erik seemed to notice it for the first time too, because he lessened his grip on my other hand and began to knead it gently, massaging the blood back into it.

"I should probably go back," I went on, not knowing the exact time but aware that it was late and, if I stayed with Erik much longer, I would probably end up spending the night. And as much as the idea excited me, I knew it was too soon for such a thing. After all, I had spent two months with Richard and in that much time I hadn't come even close to the amount of passion I felt for Erik now. I suppose it should have frightened me, feeling so much so soon.

At the opening into the basement, I stood on one side, and Erik on the other. For so many reasons I didn't want to leave him, but I knew I had to tonight. All I could hope was that he understood… that he wouldn't think of this as me backing away.

I squeezed his hand tightly.

"I'll see you soon, right?"

I put as much hopefulness into the question as possible, wanting Erik to know that I did want to see him again, more than anything. So it was a relief when I saw a small smile flicker across his mouth, and he nodded slowly from his place in the darkness.

"Of course," he whispered, raising my hand up to his mouth and, gripping the fingers tightly, placed a soft, lingering kiss there. I couldn't contain a shiver at the feel of his cold lips, but I smiled through it, letting it course through my body with a delightful trembling that remained inside me long after we said 'goodnight'. Even as I went up the stairs I still felt his kisses all over my face and neck. I climbed into bed with an eerie feeling that I wanted more from Erik… more of his touch, more of everything.

Another shudder went up through my body so that I squirmed restlessly and turned on my side to face the wall, pressing my forehead against it as if it would help cool me down… calm me down. I felt so strange… as if I no longer had complete control of myself. Things had been out of my hands enough recently, why couldn't I at least get things sorted out in my head?

It took a long time for me to get settled enough in my body and in my mind to sleep. And even then my dreams were filled with vivid images that had me constantly waking up breathless and trembling. It was like a dream when you're falling… only this was a fall unlike any I could ever have imagined.

Finally I was starting to come to terms with the fact that, for the first time in my life, I was falling in love.

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I hope people are enjoying Erik. Up until now the focus has been mainly on Christine and her problems. This chapter... and probably the next few, will be more about Erik as seen through Christine's eyes. We've seen his dangerous side... now I'm hoping to open him up a little, because, as we can see, he is opening up to Christine slowly. If someone thinks it's not working, or it could be handled better, then please god tell me... I want to get it right. You guys have been great so far... keep up with your reviews. You know how much they help. 


	18. Chapter 17

Yeah, I know, I was a little late with getting this chapter up. Sorry... please forgive me and keep reading and reviewing. Hope you enjoy this... more E/C goodness for everyone to enjoy.

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Chapter 17

The week that had taken so long to come now seemed, to me, to be passing too quickly. My mother always used to tell me "time flies when you're having fun", and she had never been more right. There just wasn't enough time for me to do everything I had planned. Admittedly my 'plans' really consisted of relaxing and spending time with my family, but a week didn't feel anything like enough time for me to be away from school and all the problems and worries that lay back there.

During the day I either stayed in watching videos and reading, or I went out into the city. Mostly I went alone, although sometimes Paula and Joseph would come with me, showing me some of the interesting places that they had discovered in the past weeks. Unfortunately my father was working most of the time, but there was always the evenings to spend with him. We went out for delicious Italian cuisine, and even attended a special concert that my father had been given tickets for. In keeping with the Italian surroundings, it was a rendition of Verdi's _Requiem_, and I loved every second. The thundering of the _Dies Irae_ rang in my ears all through the night as I lay in bed.

"Yes, it was a commendable performance," Erik told me when I saw him the next day.

I stared at him. "You were there?"

Instead of replying, he only smiled and pressed a light kiss to my forehead.

Ever since that first night back in Rome I had seen Erik at almost every possible time. This meant that whenever I was alone in the house for a period of time, he was sure to turn up. It was like he waited, watching every moment for the right time to emerge. And it always excited me to think of those times… whenever Paula announced she was going out for a while, I would have to conceal my secret delight. Even if Joseph was left under my watch, like today, it didn't detract from my happiness.

And, of course, even when he wasn't there, I could always sense him somewhere close. But it still surprised me how he was really able to go anywhere I went.

"You're just everywhere, aren't you," I teased him gently.

Still smiling, he curled his fingers around my hair. We were in my room – I had been sitting in my swivel chair, trying once again to get to grips with some Italian, when Erik had appeared from the cellar and crept up behind me, as was his habit. Now "Italian for Dummies" was discarded on my desk, and I was resting my head back against his stomach, enjoying the sensation of having my hair touched and my cheeks stroked so lovingly. That was another wonderful thing… ever since coming back the physical side of our relationship had progressed. Where before, we had both been so hesitant of openly displaying our affection, now it seemed to come much more naturally. It made me feel more like I was in a perfectly ordinary relationship.

"I'm wherever you are," he murmured back softly. For a second I thought we were going to descend into an uncomfortable silence, but he lightened the mood by shrugging slightly and saying: "I like to keep an eye on you."

My smile widened. I wouldn't have thought it would be so wonderful to have someone watch me so closely. A few weeks ago it had frightened me to think Erik was there all the time, watching. But now I felt more comforted by it than worried… as though he had become a kind of guardian angel, which was in some sense true.

"I could keep a better eye on you," he went on casually, "if you were to come and stay with me."

I think I almost fell out of my chair at this suggestion, which caught me completely off guard. Was Erik really proposing that I… go back down there? I hadn't been back to his underground home since that night and I wasn't sure how keen I was to revisit it. Not that I found it unpleasant… it was just that down there it seemed as though the world had vanished, leaving nothing but the two of us in Erik's world. It was easy to get lost down there, and not just physically so. I felt as if I had no control when I was there… even over myself, and that was a little daunting.

Besides, thinking about this logically, what was I supposed to tell my father and Paula? As far as they knew I didn't have any friends here in Rome. I couldn't just take off for the night, not without prompting a series of questions I didn't particularly want to answer.

I explained this to Erik, but felt him tense up instantly at my apparent refusal. Worried that I had hurt his feelings, I took his hand and turned in the swivel chair so I could look him directly in the eye.

"It's not that I don't want to, Erik. I really would."

"Then I'm sure we can think of something," Erik said with an air of finality. I wasn't quite sure what to make of this determined attitude, but I knew arguing with him would be pointless.

"What do you suggest?" I said, having no idea myself of what to say.

But before Erik had a chance to make any suggestions, a sound came from the baby monitor on the desk beside me - a reedy, wailing sound that was almost as painful as nails across a blackboard. Across the hall, Joseph was making his presence known, and he wasn't happy.

With an exaggerated sigh, I stood up with great reluctance, feeling Erik's hands fall away from me.

"Got to go tame the wild beast," I said, grinning sardonically.

I went through to Joseph's nursery and found him sitting up, staring through the bars of his crib. His usually cute little face was now red and creased from his fitful crying. Usually he was pretty quiet, a little angel compared to some of the nightmare children you hear about these days. But just occasionally something would set him off. All I could hope for was that it wasn't a major problem and he'd be calm again after a little cuddle.

"Alright, buddy… what's up with you?" I said, reaching into the crib and carefully lifting him out. I patted his back gently and shushed him, but to no effect. "Come on… don't be like that." But Joseph was determined to 'be like that' and nothing I could say and no amount of cuddling and kisses would make him stop.

A cool hand pressed against the small of my back. "What's wrong?"

I turned to Erik, who had followed after me, and gave him a helpless look. "I don't know." I sniffed. "Doesn't smell like he needs changing to me. Must be one of those moments. We'll just have to wait for him to get all cried out." Balancing the little boy on my hip, I gave his hot, tear-streaked face a wipe with a tissue, still making little hushing noises in the hope he would actually start paying attention to them.

I could feel Erik standing close to me, watching closely to everything I did. Turning my head up, I caught his gaze and felt the smile slide slowly across my face. He too was smiling, but I only had a moment to register this before he had bent down to kiss me. It wasn't a passionate kiss this time… it was a soft, lingering touch of his mouth against mine. Joseph's complaining wasn't exactly a romantic accompaniment, but I didn't care until I drew back and realised that the little baby was beginning to calm down. I looked down at him, and realised that he was now too preoccupied with his new visitor to cry. He looked up at Erik with a wide eyed curiosity that I found adorable, but Erik seemed to find unnerving. I guessed his experience with children must be quite limited.

"He likes you," I said with quiet amusement.

Erik looked taken aback by this observation, and stared at me, and then Joseph. It was strange to see him so unsettled after getting used to him being the calm one all the time. But I guessed even Erik had things that worried him.

I, on the other hand, found things like this delightful. What did unnerve me was when my eye caught an unexpected movement and I looked off to one side and saw that there was a mirror set against one wall. It wasn't a very big mirror, but it was certainly big enough to show the reflections of me, Joseph and Erik, standing closely together. If we hadn't been moving, I could almost have sworn it was a portrait… like a family portrait.

At some point Erik must have noticed my wayward gaze and followed it, because now his masked eyes met mine in the mirror. We watched ourselves with a mixture of wonder and some other emotions… with excitement, at least on my part, as if this were some kind of sign.

But for Erik, the sign was something else. As I watched his eyes hardened, and at first I thought he was angry with me, before I realised he was staring at his own reflection… and staring at it with such loathing I had to force myself not to step back. It was as though he saw a mortal enemy in front of him.

Before I could say a word he stepped away from me. Initially I thought he was going to leave the room, but instead he took a few steps until he was almost touching his own reflection. And there he continued to glare with intense hatred. I could see his shoulders shaking with it, and instinctively held Joseph tighter against me, fearing some angry outburst.

It was a good thing I followed my instincts, because little more than a second later something inside Erik must have snapped. In a blur of motion and with a deafening crash, Erik punched the mirror with his fist, swift and powerfully charged with his emotion. Jumping in shock and sudden fear, I was ready to run out of the room with little Joseph, who seemed too shocked and scared to begin his crying again at this unexpected chaos. But before I could do any such thing, Erik had swept past me and out of the room. I stepped back at the look in his eyes, which, even though it was not directed at me, sent a sickening chill through my guts. I heard him thumping angrily down the stairs and then the slam of the basement door.

The silence was punctuated by Joseph, who didn't actually burst into tears again but made a distressed noise and squirmed in worry. Thankfully, it didn't take much to hush him down this time, and once he was settled, playing with one of his many stuffed animals, I left the room to follow Erik. The wisdom of doing this was more than questionable, given the temper he was in now, but I had to go after him, even if it was only as far as the basement.

Pulling the door open, I peered down into the gloom, trying to make out a shape.

"Erik?"

There was no reply, and I thought he might have retreated back into his home, until I turned the light on and found, to my surprise, that he was merely standing by the entrance to the tunnel, as if undecided about whether he should leave. Well… at least I could try and find out what was wrong, or perhaps repair some of the damage. I didn't pretend to be completely ignorant of why exactly he had broken the mirror. I'd always suspected that he, in some way, hated himself. Perhaps that was the reason for the mask… his enforced solitude… and his terribly thin build. After all, anorexics often thought they were ugly unless they were thin. Could Erik have a similar problem?

If so, then how could I convince him that _I _didn't find him ugly? That I liked him just the way he was… maybe even…

"Erik?" I said again to his turned back. "Are you okay?" Inwardly I cursed myself for asking such a bloody stupid question. Of course he wasn't alright… the broken mirror upstairs was evidence enough of that.

Cautiously, I took the few steps that lay between us, and rested my hand on his arm. The muscles stiffened under my fingers, but I refused to be daunted.

"Erik… talk to me," I urged gently, reaching out with my other hand.

"Don't."

I winced, not merely at the rejection but at the dead, emotionless quality of his voice. It sounded so doom-laden I wanted to cry. But instead I gripped his arm tighter and tried again.

"Please, Erik - "

"I said DON'T!"

With this more forceful warning he pulled his arm out of my grip and began to stride off without looking back. But this time I wasn't going to let him walk away from me, and I reached out to grab his hand back. It stopped him in his tracks, and he turned, no doubt to shout at me once again, but my own cry overshadowed his, because I could feel something warm and wet sticking to my fingers and palms.

"You're bleeding," I cried.

Angrily, he tried to pull his hand away again. "It's nothing."

Ignoring his dismissal, I pulled the injured limb towards me and tried to examine it under the dim light. Erik didn't attempt to withdraw again, but grudgingly allowed me to look. I could feel the tension rising off him in thick waves but all I could think about was that his hand, which played the piano with a perfection and skill that no one else on earth possessed, was injured. I could think of nothing worse than that he might never be able to play again.

"I can't see it in this light… come back upstairs."

Once more I wouldn't take his refusals, but he seemed only half-hearted now in his attempts to get away from me. There was a note in his voice that tried to be angry but, to me, only sounded pained. Leading him upstairs to the kitchen, cupping a hand under his to catch the droplets of blood flowing from the cuts, I turned the water on and ran it until it was warm. Then, tenderly, I began to wash the blood away. I bit my lip on seeing the little cuts all over the backs of his fingers and knuckles, and hoped there were no shards of glass embedded in the skin.

"Does that hurt?" I asked.

He didn't reply aloud, only shook his head and I realised he was watching me with infinite care. But not my hands or the way I was trying to wash his cuts… he was watching my face, and I realised that I had unshed tears in my eyes. Trying to be strong, I blinked furiously to keep them back.

"I'll… I'll go and get some antiseptic."

Now it was Erik's turn to stop me in my tracks. He refused to let go of my hands, gripping them tightly even as blood began to rise from the cuts once again.

"Don't worry, Christine. I'll take care of it later…"

"But I want to help," I protested, feeling a lump rising in my throat. For whatever reason, I felt as though Erik's injuries were somehow my doing.

But he smiled down at me and reached up with his one good hand to stroke my hair back behind my ear. "Then stay," he said simply, before bending down to kiss me. At first I wanted to stop him, still feeling the urge to take care of him, but he wouldn't have it, and held me tightly with one hand on the back of my neck. Finally I succumbed and slipped my arms up and around his body, pressing the palms of my hands between his shoulder blades. The passion in our kiss grew quickly until I found myself pressed back up against the kitchen sink, hardly able to catch my breath as Erik pressed his mouth fiercely against mine. But my fervour matched his this time and I nearly forced him to crush me in his embrace. I just couldn't have him close enough to me.

Eventually the wildness faded, to be replaced by something entirely different… a deep, sensual kiss that stirred up the fire burning deep inside my body. There was so much longing… so much neediness I felt weak with it… as though my legs were going to give way beneath me.

We drew apart, but only barely. Erik's masked face was barely inches from mine, and his grey-blue eyes, glazed with his passion, seemed to fill my entire future. Our hearts were beating erratically against each other, and we were fighting to control our breathing. But it was Erik who found his voice first… as he pressed the cold forehead of the mask down against mine, watching my eyes intently from that minute distance.

"I love you."

His voice was less than a whisper, and it took me a moment to realise that those words had not been in my imagination. And when I did realise, it was as though the whole world had come to a standstill. Even time itself had stopped to witness this moment… this earth-shattering, life-altering moment when I heard him say for the first time that he loved me. My whole body quivered as my mind took this in… but my eyes were free of tears and it was like a sudden moment of clarity… as though my entire life, up until this moment, had been lived with a veil over my eyes.

And I knew what I had to say.

"I love you too."

The words came so easily that for a fraction of a second I wondered if I truly meant it. How easy could it be to say those words and not mean them? But, staring up into Erik's eyes, seeing the passion… the adoration and the love… I just knew I returned it with every fibre of my mind, body and soul.

I loved him… I really loved him.

We barely had time to enjoy the revelation, Erik's head jerked up sharply at the sound of a car pulling up outside the house, and my chest tightened, as it always did, with the fear of being caught. Quickly, Erik retreated from the kitchen and went down into the cellar, I went as far as the stone steps with him, and just before he disappeared down that secret tunnel I called out to him.

"Erik!"

He turned to look back at me, waiting for what I had to say.

"I want to come and stay with you," I blurted out in a whispered rush. "I'll think of something, I promise."

There was a brief moment when he simply stared at me, but I knew he wouldn't tell me I couldn't stay with him. I knew he would smile and nod reassuringly. I knew he loved me. And he did. The door to the tunnel closed just as the key turned in front door and Paula let herself in.

"Christine!"

Hoping the evidence of my moment of passion with Erik was not plain on my face, I stuck my head around the door of the basement.

"I'm here."

Paula hung up her jacket and gave me a curious look. "What are you doing down there?"

I was ready with an excuse, which neatly encompassed another explanation. "Looking for a dustpan," I said. "The mirror in Joseph's room's broken."

"Broken? How'd that happen?"

I shrugged, feigning ignorance. "No idea. I just heard the crash and Joseph crying. It looked like it just fell off the hook and smashed on the floor."

"Oh… well, the dustpan's in the kitchen. I'll bring it up."

I thanked her profusely, then slipped quickly up the stairs into Joseph's room. The broken mirror had not been knocked off the wall when Erik punched it, but I took it down now and, as Paula went past me with the dustpan, I escaped with it to the dustbin outside, knowing that my step-mother would be able to tell someone had punched it if she saw how the glass was cracked. I dumped it in the bin with a smile and a sigh of relief. That problem at least was solved.

What was harder to conceal, however, was what Paula termed my 'radiance'. More than once during the rest of the day she remarked how I appeared to be glowing, as if something wonderful had happened. But, as much as I ached to tell someone what had happened… that I was in love and had someone who loved me… I knew I couldn't, and I passed it off as being happy to be home.

But I had another problem to solve. I had promised Erik I would stay with him, and I was determined to keep that promise not simply because it meant so much to Erik but because I genuinely wanted to go and stay with him, even just for one night. Today was Wednesday and I would be going back to school on Tuesday, my school having this odd things about re-starting in the middle of a week. That gave me five days when I could do it… but first I would need to find an excuse to leave the house. I couldn't just up and leave without an explanation.

I was stumped… I had no idea what to say, since as far as Paula and dad knew, I had no friends in Rome. I couldn't just invent some friends to go and stay with.

Fortunately, for me, my luck had not quite run out yet.

"Where?"

"Just outside the city. It would only be for the weekend. We'd be back on Monday morning."

I listened with mild astonishment to the news my father had brought home the same day Erik and I had finally admitted our feelings for one another. Drunk on the euphoria of being loved and being in love, I was now reeling with a sense of good luck. My father, apparently, had been invited to the house of a wealthy patron of the orchestra he performed with. It seemed a very last minute arrangement, but they were hardly in any position to deny their patrons anything. They would stay the weekend, perform for the man and his friends, and then come back. Simple as that.

"You and Paula?" I asked, double-checking everything in case I was dreaming.

"That's right."

"What about Joseph?"

"Well, we didn't really expect you to take care of him for the entire weekend by yourself," my father said, to my quiet relief. I could handle my little half-brother for an evening, maybe overnight, but I wasn't ready for a long weekend with him, with no help. Besides… I could hardly have taken him down to Erik's home with me, could I?

"So he's going with you?"

"No. Paula's arranged for him to stay with a friend of hers."

Bloody hell… someone up there was definitely smiling on me these days, I thought to myself. Now it seemed I would have an entire weekend to spend with Erik. Three nights, to be precise, given that dad and Paula would be leaving on the Friday evening.

"Sorry it means we don't get to spend the weekend together, sweetheart," my father added a little guiltily.

That pulled my initial delight to a quick stop. Suddenly I realised how strange it was, for me not to have instantly thought along those lines… that this would mean less time to spend with my family. But my mind was too preoccupied with Erik to think about that, and all of a sudden I felt disturbed to think that my relationship with him was now blotting out any other relationship I had, even with my family.

But that was ridiculous, I told myself reasonably. I was just preoccupied, that's all. Anyone would be after something like this happening to them.

So I waited impatiently for the Friday evening to come, all the while having to hide my excitement at the thought of spending a few days alone with Erik. It was strange to think that I had been so hesitant about staying with Richard, yet was jumping at the chance to stay with Erik… but I waved these thoughts aside with ease now. I hadn't been in love with Richard. That explained everything.

Joseph was taken to Paula's friend on the Friday afternoon, and I kissed him goodbye. I wondered if somewhere, in his little infant mind, he remembered his masked visitor. At least I could count on him to keep my secret and, even though he wouldn't understand, I gave him a conspiratorial wink as he stared out of the car window at me. I waved to my father and Paula as they turned the car around the corner and disappeared from sight. It hadn't been a long goodbye, not compared to some we had been through, but I was moved to see just how reluctant my father was to leave me behind. But I reassured him that I would be fine by myself… and that I wouldn't throw any wild parties or blow up the house while he was gone.

Obviously I left out the crucial detail that this was because I wouldn't even be in the house.

Once the car was safely out of sight I turned and charged back into the house, making sure to lock the front door securely behind me. Quickly I headed up the stairs to my room, where I pulled a small overnight bag from under the bed and began to pack a few essentials into it. The surrealism of what I was doing tried to make itself known, but I pushed it aside in my excitement.

As soon as I had everything I felt I would need, I checked my watch. It had been a little under 15 minutes since I had been left alone and I was due to wait another three quarters of an hour, under Erik's instructions. He had told me, in all seriousness, that it would be best to make sure my parents didn't return to collect something and become worried about my not being there. It had seemed unnecessary to me then, and it was irritating to me now, since I was being forced to wait longer now for Erik to come and collect me. In this regard, patience was certainly not my strong point.

Finally, just after the 45 minutes were up, I heard my name being called softly from below. Smiling ecstatically, I hoisted my bag onto my shoulder and went back downstairs to the cellar door. Briefly I set my things down and had a final check of the house. The back door… front door… windows… all locked securely. There was also a note left on the hall table, just in case my parents decided to send someone to check on me, saying I had gone out. These deceptive tactics made me uncomfortable… but eventually Erik had convinced me that this would be better than causing my parents unnecessary worry.

My name was called again, and I rushed off, grabbing my bag from the floor and taking the basement steps two at a time. The main light was off, but a little yellow light came from the tunnel, and I could make out Erik's shadow holding it up so I could find my way to him. When I was close enough, I realised he was shaking slightly. Was he as excited as I was?

"Are you ready, my dear?"

I nodded to him in the darkness.

I was ready.


	19. Chapter 18

I'm a little late with this chapter. Sorry! Life is not giving me much time these days. But don't worry... I'll finish this story if it kills me... because I get the feeling if I don't then you guys will! D Enjoy!

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Chapter 18

We returned.

I felt giddy and light-headed again. I realised I was acting the part of a giggly schoolgirl. It was hardly a mature approach to the situation, but at least it didn't appear to matter to Erik, who led me down into the catacombs once again without another word, grasping my hand gently so as not to lose me in the labyrinth. I was glad of his light, and also the fact that, this time, I was wearing proper shoes, because I was so thrilled by what was happening I didn't pay attention to where I put my feet half the time.

The thrill and awe I had experienced on seeing his underground home for the first time was still present when I entered once again and swept my eyes across the vast chamber. A few things had changed, I realised instantly. One was the flowers, which were scattered elegantly around in tall vases. Every single one was a rose, I realised, and not one petal was anything other than the deepest red. Instinctively I reached out to touch the nearest bouquet, and found the petals wonderfully soft against my fingers.

The second thing I noticed was the statues. I remembered, on last coming down here, that they had been covered by white cloths. Now they were revealed… beautiful, reverent sculptures of angels, their flawless wings folded against their backs while they prayed. At first I was charmed by them and their magnificence, until I saw the expressions that had been expertly carved onto their delicate features. I couldn't remember ever seeing the face of an angel so… heartbreaking. Their hands weren't raised in worship… but in desperate entreaty. For what, I didn't dare imagine. I could almost see the tears streaming down their stone cheeks.

"Christine."

The sound of Erik's voice interrupted my thoughts and I shook them off, remembering why I was here and who was with me. Glancing up, I realised with some embarrassment that Erik had been carefully watching my reaction to everything. Blushing, I tried to smile through it and, thankfully, he didn't press me to tell him what was wrong. Instead he touched my arm gently.

"I'll be back in a moment."

Nodding silently, I watched him leave the main chamber, pushing aside one of the large drapes and going into a much smaller room beyond it. It was tempting to follow, but I resisted for now. Avoiding looking at the faces of the stone angels, I went to the piano and picked up the music that had been laid out. The sheets were fresh, but they couldn't have come from a music book, and it slowly dawned on me that Erik must have written it. Softly, I began to hum the tune… feeling thrilled that it was Erik's composition I held in my hands. The words were written in French, and I understood a little of what was written… certain phrases leaping out to me…

"What do you think?"

My breath hitched in my throat, as if I had been caught in the act of doing something very wrong. But when I looked back at Erik, who had appeared at my shoulder as quietly as a ghost, he didn't seem upset. In fact he looked pleased that I had been studying at his music.

"It's beautiful," I said, meaning it wholeheartedly. "It sounds familiar too," I added thoughtfully.

Erik nodded, and removed the music sheets from my hands. "Perhaps this will refresh your memory."

With this, he seated himself at the piano and began to play, his fingers moving fluidly across the notes, drawing sounds from the huge instrument that seemed too exquisite to be real. And when he began singing I felt as though he had reached into my body and pulled at something deep and hidden there… something that combined both pleasure and pain in one delicious blend. My breathing became ragged and my limbs seemed to lose their energy. I remembered when I had heard this. Erik had sung this piece for me before… only now it was sweeter, more crystal clear. Once he had used it to sing me to sleep… and now, it was doing something utterly different to me that set every nerve in my body tingling.

By the end of the song I was shaking all over, on the verge of tears. Erik rose from the piano and without a word gathered me to him in a warm embrace. Apparently the music had effected him too… I could feel his heart beating wildly against his ribs as my head pressed against him. But he controlled himself far better than I did, running his fingers soothingly through my hair and kissing my scalp through the dark-brown curls.

The feeling of his lips was too much, and I turned my head up, desperately seeking his mouth with my own. I kissed him with what I could only describe as hunger… an all-consuming appetite that refused to be appeased, and which Erik returned with equal fervour. His arms tightened around my shoulders and mine around his waist, fingers curling into the fabric of clothes as we sought desperately to be closer to each other until I could hardly breath from the tightness of his embrace, and found myself not caring in the slightest.

This need… this urgent desire… it was both terrifying and thrilling. It dominated my body and eclipsed everything else. My entire world had shrunk to the size of this underground chamber. There was nothing beyond it except an empty blackness that I wanted nothing to do with. _This_ was what mattered. What was happening now between me and Erik… _this_ was everything.

We parted, if only to catch our breath for a second, and watched each other from little more than an inch away. I was staring directly into the eye-sockets of the mask, into the blue-grey depths of Erik's eyes, watching something burn there.

"Erik…"I whispered breathlessly, even though I had nothing really to say.

Whatever I had seen burning in his eyes faded just slightly… retreated somewhere inside him, although I knew it was still there somewhere… waiting patiently for the right moment.

"There's something I want you to have," he said, moving away slightly.

"What?" I asked, instantly curious.

He smiled and shook his head, indicating that he wouldn't say. But he gestured to one of the drapes, though not the one he had just been through.

"Go in there. Get yourself ready. I have something special planned."

I wanted to tease him… play with this strange, cryptic attitude he had suddenly adopted. But he looked so serious that I thought twice about it and asked him plainly: "What is it?"

But again he shook his head. "Don't ask questions, my dear. You'll see soon enough." And once again he gestured to the opening. This time I didn't risk questioning him and obeyed quietly, intrigued by what exactly he had planned for me. Pushing the heavy drape to one side, feeling the tasselled edge tickling the back of my hand, I went into a much smaller room that was almost completely bare, except for a simple wooden bed in one corner with a candelabra shedding light from a small table beside it. It looked like a room for a monk except for one detail. On the bed there was a long white box, the kind I knew must contain some kind of dress. My fingers shook as I removed the top and reverently unfolded the garment inside.

It was white… that was the foremost thing about it. Pure white and made from the smoothest silk I had ever felt. It shone in the light from the candles as I held it up. The waist was a corset, I could feel the hardness inside the fabric meant to give the wearer the right shape… and the skirt itself flowed down in soft layers, all beaded with tiny pearls and ending in a short train at the back that would just drag along the floor, but only barely. The straps at the shoulders were of a thin, lacy material that also lined the top of the bodice.

It looked like a wedding dress… so much like one that I almost dropped it in sudden panic. What was it that Erik had planned? Surely he didn't intend to… I mean… I was only seventeen. I wasn't even allowed to get married yet, was I? And for all the deep emotions I felt for him, I certainly didn't feel ready for this.

But even as I stood there, heart pounding wildly, I couldn't help but acknowledge the beauty of this creation I held in my hands. Something inside me ached to put it on… to wear it. A part of my mind reasoned with me calmly… _it's only a dress. It's not as if you've been proposed to, for goodness sake._ Well, that was true. Traditionally you were proposed to first, then came all the fuss about the wedding dress and such. _Besides… just because a dress is white doesn't automatically make it a wedding dress._ True again. People wore white dresses all the time and they weren't getting married. _You're being paranoid._ Yes, I probably was, I admitted. Nothing to panic about really. And besides… Erik had asked me to wear this, and I didn't want to disappoint him.

Carefully I placed the dress on the small bed and looked around. If Erik really did have something special in mind, I wanted to look my best. There was a door, the only door I had seen in this place and when I went through I saw that it led to what looked like a bathroom… albeit an odd-looking one, with everything from a toilet to a little hand basin in the corner. The 'bath' was sculpted out of the floor, with two large taps hanging over the edge. I had no idea how, but one of them yielded hot water, and soon I had a lovely warm bath run. When I sat in it, I felt like I was in a Jacuzzi, minus the bubbles.

Once out of the bath, I found a soft white towel laid out on the bed and quickly dried myself. Then I looked at this dress. It still made me a little uneasy, and the feeling intensified as I put it on. There was no mirror in the room, but I knew what I must look like. A veil and a bouquet would have completed the image. But I pushed these thoughts out of my head and concentrated on getting ready.

Luckily for me, I had a small mirror in my make-up bag. I set it on the little table next to the candelabra and began to carefully apply my make-up, not overdoing it and making it as natural as possible. I didn't want to go overboard and look like I was desperate to impress.

Once I was ready I spent at least ten more minutes trying to work up a nerve to go out into the main room. I was still nervous about being seen in this dress, even by Erik, but I knew I couldn't possibly hide in here all evening. And besides… something was happening next door that awoke my curiosity. First there was the smell… of food. Delicious scents wafted through and had my mouth watering so much I was desperate to know what had been prepared Obviously Erik's little surprise was a romantic dinner, and I felt myself blushing even with no one there to see it.

Second was the music…

I emerged slowly, curious and also self-conscious. Fortunately, Erik had his back to me for the moment, and that gave me the opportunity to see what was happening. A small table had been set out, carefully laid for two. There were steaming plates of food there, from which little wisps of steam arose. The music I couldn't find the source of. It was as though it were coming out of the air itself…. soft, sweet piano music that was in keeping with this place.

As was I now, I observed, looking down at myself once again.

Erik still hadn't turned and, finally working up some nerve, I cleared my throat to alert him to my presence. He turned and I actually saw the way he completely halted in every aspect as his eyes fixed on me. He was wearing a smart dinner suit, not a tuxedo I noted with a little relief, and looked impeccable, even with his lean frame. I could tell he was taking in my appearance too, but he seemed to take so long about it, and I felt the colour rise in my face once again as his gaze seemed to intensify with every passing second.

In a desperate attempt to achieve some reaction, I put my hands behind my back and gave a modest little shrug. It seemed to work, because Erik let out a sigh that sent a tremor up my spine.

"You look so beautiful," he said with so much longing in his voice I wanted to walk into his arms right then. But he held out his hands to me and I took them, smiling with slight embarrassment at the look in his eye. He put me at ease by bending down to place a lingering kiss on my mouth. We shared another smile before Erik helped me to my seat.

The candlelight reflected off silver dish covers, and I watched as Erik, with no small amount of flair, lifted the one in front of me. A small cloud of steam rose from underneath, along with an even stronger scent of the food. The meat, tinged slightly with the blood, looked like lamb, and when I cut away a piece and placed it in my mouth it nearly melted against my tongue. A hint of rosemary lingered on my taste buds. I opened my eyes, realising for the first time that Erik was watching me intently.

"It's delicious," I said, prompting a small flicker of pride to cross his smiling mouth. Then he picked up a wine bottle that had also been set on the table and poured me half a glass, the rich red liquid splashing against the delicate crystal. I was hardly a great connoisseur when it came to wine, but I had a feeling, as I raised the glass to my lips, that this was not the cheap stuff my father bought. I took a small sip and felt a warm rush of fruity flavours against my tongue. I looked at Erik over the rim and gave a small smile as I set the glass down and returned my attention to the food once more. As with the music, I had no idea where this delicious meal had come from, but I didn't feel inclined to ruin the magic of the evening by asking.

While we ate we talked. And in this atmosphere, in this place… I found courage to say things I had not dared before. I actually risked asking questions.

"Why did you come to Rome?"

He hid his reaction to the question well, but I could still sense his surprise, however small, at the unexpected curiosity. Even more surprisingly, however, was that Erik actually answered.

"A few reasons. The lure of the culture perhaps… and it seemed like the best place to stay." He shrugged gracefully and took a drink from the crystal wineglass before raising his eyes to look about his home. "After wandering for so long I felt it was time to settle."

"'Wandering?'" I echoed enquiringly.

"Yes… just wandering. All over the world. I'm surprised I remember half the places I've been in my lifetime."

"What did you do? While you were travelling, I mean."

"This and that," he said evasively, and I took this instantly as a sign not to press him to tell me. So instead I asked a different question.

"Do you miss France?" Looking over at me, he frowned slightly and I blushed a little. "I know you're French, remember?"

He softened a little at the reminder and my sudden shyness. "I remember. And the answer is no… I don't miss France. There's nothing there for me but memories… ones that I'm very happy to leave there… undisturbed."

Again, another warning to drop this topic quickly and, not wanting to ruin the mood of the evening, I took the hint. But apart from these searching questions buzzing in my head I felt incapable of making conversation. Good conversation anyway. Maybe it was the situation I found myself in, an anticipation of what the evening might bring. But Erik saved the evening for me by telling me stories… though sadly not about himself. At some point our limited conversation turned to my equally limited knowledge of Rome, the architecture, the history and finally the mythology. I commented on the statues of the gods and goddesses about the city, and remarked how little I knew about them. And so Erik told me the myths, and told them with such dexterity that I almost believed they really happened.

My favourite story was Cupid and Psyche. This story I did know, however, but I let Erik tell it anyway, just to hear him weave the beautiful tale into my mind with his voice. The beautiful mortal Psyche was so adored by the men in her father's kingdom that she incurred the jealousy of Venus, the Goddess of Love, who sent her son Cupid to make her fall in love with the ugliest creature on earth. But instead Cupid fell in love with her, and eventually devised a scheme to marry her, visiting her only by night, in darkness, so she would never know his identity as the God of Love.

When the story was finished, and the meal with it, Erik stood up, and held out his hands once again. I allowed him to pull me gently to my feet and lead me off to one of the other rooms, one I hadn't been in before. When he looked back at me I saw something in his eyes that made my heart skip, not in panic this time but a strange kind of excitement. The room beyond was dark and as we entered I barely had time to take in the surroundings, in particular the large bed at the far side of the room, before the black drape fell over the doorway, and we were plunged into utter darkness.

Erik let go of my hand, and I reached out to try and find him in the blackness.

"Erik… where are you?" I whispered, unable to raise my voice in that place, as if it were a sin to do so. But the hint of panic in my tone was unmistakeable. "Erik?"

"I'm here, my love," said a voice behind me, and I felt a pair of arms wrapping around me. I leant back against him in relief and held onto him tightly. As I did, I felt his mouth touch my bare throat and move slowly and tenderly up and down the flesh. At the same time his hands began to move, tracing the sides of the silk corset and finally coming to rest behind me – at the top clasp between my shoulder blades. He grasped it purposefully…

"Erik…" I began, but faltered.

"Ssh… it's alright," he whispered reassuringly, right into my ear with that soft, sweet voice.

"But…" I was glad he couldn't see my face, because I could feel the heat rushing to it. "I've never… I mean, I'm…"

"I know, Christine… I know. Don't be afraid."

But I wasn't afraid, I knew. Just strangely nervous. My whole body was trembling in anticipation of what was about to happen as I felt Erik slowly undoing the corset and it began to slip from around my body. I could feel how much I wanted this, and it was a little scary, but it _was_ what I wanted.

"But why like this?" I asked softly, referring to the darkness around us, through which I could not even make out shapes and shadows.

But I felt Erik's mouth against my temple, the nose of the mask in my hair… and his lips brushed my skin as he spoke. "We'll be just like Cupid and Psyche, my love. The union of Love and the Soul… in darkness…"

He went on, speaking softly and soothingly to me as his fingers and lips moved fluidly over my body, leaving delightful tingles on my skin. And I listened, captivated, to every word. Eventually he turned me in his arms, and in the darkness guided my hands to his own clothes, allowing me to unfasten the buttons, slip the jacket and shirt away from him. I felt his bare skin… the coldness of it, and again I realised how thin he must be… but I didn't care anymore. He was right. All I needed was to know that he was here and that he loved me. What else really mattered other than that?

He kissed me deeply, lovingly and then picked me up in his arms. I felt myself being carried, and then lowered with infinite care onto soft, smooth sheets that felt heavenly against my bare skin. But nothing compared to the feeling of Erik's body against mine as we lay together, his mouth exploring the exposed flesh of my body, sending delightful tremors of pleasure up through me. I was lost in him… in his voice, his body and the depth of his passion and my own. He pressed himself tightly to me and I felt him shuddering from the pleasure too, losing some of that calm control now in the face of this surge of overpowering emotion. We were both plunging over the edge with no one to pull us back and we clung to each other as we fell, writhing in pleasure as a thousand different sensations raced through us and ended in a climax that shook me right to the core… shook me so violently that I felt the tears pour down my cheeks. I couldn't breath… I felt like I was going to die.

But I didn't die… I lived. I awoke from the dream into the reality, surrounded by blackness and the arms of this man I had given myself to.

"I love you," I whispered, almost without realising.

There was the slightest pause, and then Erik's mouth closed over mine once again.

"I love you."


	20. Chapter 19

Gah! I really need to start being on time with these updates. Just finding time at the moment is so tricky. Please forgive me everyone! And... forgive this chapter because... well... we all saw this coming, didn't we?

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Chapter 19

I woke slowly, my eyelids heavy so that I had to force them open, and I nearly panicked when I still couldn't see anything. Then I realised it was only the dark, and I calmed. Something was thumping in a steady rhythm near my ear, and for a moment I was confused about what it could be, until my body registered the feeling of cool skin and arms wrapped around me.

My head was resting on Erik's chest, and I knew he must be sleeping, his breathing was deep and even and his whole body felt relaxed beside me.

Memories of last night came flooding back and I shut my eyes again, smiling in the dark and nuzzling further into Erik's arms. He didn't even stir.

It was hard to believe what had happened. Almost like it was nothing more than a vivid dream. Not that I regretted last night… I didn't. Maybe I should have, I wasn't really sure. Nothing like this had ever happened to me before, so I hadn't a clue how to react. All I did know was that I felt a mixture of things… contentment, love… and a feeling of security. I didn't doubt that people would have frowned upon this… saying I was too young to know anything about love or accept the responsibility of such a committed relationship.

But I did love Erik, I knew… and it made me happy to think that we were together like this. I had never experienced the feeling of waking up beside someone after sharing something so intimate… and I knew, somewhere inside me, that Erik was the only one I wanted to experience this feeling with. And it wasn't as if we hadn't been… safe. That at least, I could depend on.

One more thing I knew… there was a discomforting feeling 'down there'. I needed to go to the bathroom.

Carefully, I pulled away from Erik, not wanting to disturb him when he was sleeping so peacefully. I slipped quietly out of the circle of his arms, feeling for the edge of the bed, and then the floor. There was no sound from him, so I assumed he still slept. I tried to remember the layout of the room from the brief glimpse I had seen of it last night. If the bed and the far wall were over here… then the doorway was to my right when I stood at the side of the bed. Feeling my way along, I was relieved to finally touch the soft velvet curtain. When I pushed it to one side the yellow light beyond gave me something to see by. I looked back into the room, where a shaft of light had been cast over my side of the bed, which was now empty. Erik's arm was outstretched across it… as if inviting me to return.

There was also my bag, on the other side of the doorway. Quietly I bent down and opened it, rummaging for a t-shirt and slipping it on, as if there were someone other than Erik in this place that I didn't want to see me naked. In the long white t-shirt, I went into the main room, where many of the candles still burned brightly. I wish I knew what time it was… I had taken my watch off last night.

In the bathroom, I sat with my chin in my hands, thinking. What would happen now? This wasn't going to be one of those nightmare situations, was it? Erik wasn't going to wake up and tell me that was all… that he wanted nothing else from me? No… he wasn't like that. This was more than just a conquest for him, I was sure. But it was a worry of so many girls… that they would give up their virginity and find that the man was just a chauvinist pig.

But I did wonder what would happen. This hadn't ever been a normal relationship… it would be stupid to expect it to suddenly become one. That in itself was a saddening thought. Erik and I would probably never go out together like a normal couple… sit talking in restaurants, go to parties. Sure, we had other things to enjoy but, after the initial excitement of something so new and different, I couldn't help being aware of a distant longing for something a little more ordinary.

With these thoughts still circling in my head, I returned to the main bedroom, picking up a little candelabrum on my way, not wanting to trip and fall in the darkness. I carried it carefully so as not to burn the drapes and entered, holding up the three candles to shed their light. Erik hadn't moved… and I watched him as I sat on the edge of the bed, seeing how the flicker of the candlelight played across the contours of the mask.

And as I stared at this thing that shielded his true face from me, suddenly I remembered something more from the previous night. Erik… he had talked about the legend of Cupid and Psyche. I knew that story… and I remembered now that Erik had left out something. He had never finished it properly. Cupid had come to Psyche by night, so she would never learn his identity… but later, convinced by her sisters that her new husband was a monster, she had held a lamp over the bed and saw who he was. Her betrayal had been given away by a drop of oil that had fallen on his arm. The god had departed, leaving her alone because she had not trusted him.

Now, I saw a strange parallel to that story. Never, in all the time I had known Erik, had I been allowed to really see him. Always he had hidden from me, behind that white mask… and as I acknowledged this, really acknowledged it for the first time, I felt a twinge of resentment. Did that mean he couldn't trust me? It would explain why he never allowed me to raise my hands anywhere near his face. Why? Why wouldn't he let me see? Even if he did possibly hide some disfigurement behind that mask, didn't he love and trust me enough to show me? I loved him enough to look beyond physical appearance. Looking at him now, at him lying in that bed, I could see more clearly the extent to which his body had wasted away. He was skeletal… so much so that I could understand why someone might be disgusted by him.

But I wasn't just 'someone'. I loved him… and surely that counted for something.

Slowly I leaned forward, reaching out with my free hand towards him, towards the mask. I didn't make the same mistake as Psyche in the myth… I kept the candles held away from him, so they wouldn't drip wax on him as I gently took hold of the mask with the slightest pressure of my fingers. It was not held there by elastic or string… it was just perfectly sculpted to fit his face.

Biting my lip, feeling a soft trembling of anticipation in my body, I lifted the mask away.

The trembling stopped. I froze, as did everything around me. It was like that moment when Erik had first said he loved me… as if time had come to an end… only now it was for a completely different reason.

His face… oh god… I didn't know what I had expected. A few scars, perhaps. Maybe some mild form of that disease, what did they call it? Elephant Man's Disease? But not this… nothing like this. Looking at him I felt the blood leaking from my face until I felt cold and numb all over.

His skin was stretched over the skull, but barely. I could see how thin it was… barely a membrane covering the bone, a disgusting greyish yellow, with little veins just visible in the light. Finally I saw why the parts of him I had been able to see had always looked so strange. His eyes… I had always thought they were shadowed by the mask, but they weren't. They were sunken… deep into the sockets. In the faint light they looked as though they belonged to a skull, a feeling that was only emphasised by his nose, which was nothing but a gaping hole covered by the thin membrane of skin. I could only see the nostrils beneath it. And finally his mouth… which had always seemed somehow odd. It was shrivelled… the lips shrunken back against the teeth. The mouth was not quite so deformed as the rest of his face, so I had barely noticed, but it was visible enough now. Even his hair, I realised, covered something else. I could see the line of a wig resting on his top of his forehead. The edge of the mask must have hidden it from sight. I almost reached out to touch it, but then pulled my fingers back and instead used them to cover my mouth, just in case a whimper of disgust escaped me. Jesus… I might have understood if he were wasted away. His obvious lack of nourishment would have explained it. But not this. How could someone living look like this? It seemed impossible… like a nightmare.

And now I understood so much more about Erik. I knew now why he was the way he had been… the reason for his enforced solitude… the mask… his behaviour. Everything was explained by this one thing. I knew… for all this world's boasting about open-mindedness, they would snap up something like this and tear it apart. I couldn't lie to myself… I had seen my fair share of horror movies, but none of those could have prepared me for this reality, this living, breathing reality. I couldn't deny that my instinctive reaction was one of horror and disgust… and I considered myself an open person generally. I knew, as Erik must have done, that even if people didn't regard him with horror and fear… they would hound him, gobbling up the controversy surrounding such a deformity like wild dogs. Their sick curiosity and obsession with extraordinary things would drive anyone insane… especially someone like Erik. I didn't know if his deformity had made him crave privacy and security, or if perhaps he had always been the reclusive type. But in the face of this, I didn't blame Erik for hiding… I didn't blame him for any of it.

I shuddered, feeling the understanding take over, and the overwhelming sympathy I felt seeped in, eclipsing all my initial disgust. What Erik had been through in his life I didn't dare imagine… but it filled my eyes with tears. They fell down my cheeks as I bent over this man that I still loved… and a sob escaped my throat…

… and woke Erik.

I froze instinctively when I realised he had opened his eyes. I don't know whether I had expected to get away with removing his mask without him finding out, but something deep down told me that I would have to face some anger on his part for doing this. I braced myself for it as he stirred. His gaze found mine almost instantly, the eyes sunken in his head instantly seeing that something was wrong. They flicked to the light in my hand… and then to the mask which I still held. As I watched his face, it didn't change, just quietly took in what had happened… that rigid control being exerted once again.

He looked back at me, saw the tears in my eyes, the slight fear in my expression, and as I watched, I saw that control snap like a snare coming down on an innocent animal in a peaceful forest. I was given no time to speak… not even a second to cry out before he lunged, like a demented creature, and knocked me to the floor painfully. When I looked up there was only blackness as the candles went out. I heard Erik nearby… moving quickly, and I felt a panic seize my entire body.

"Erik!" I cried out desperately, reaching blindly for something to hold onto. "Erik, where are you?"

And then he was behind me. At first I thought he was going to put his arms around me, as he had done last night… I thought he was going to hold me again. But he did no such thing. Instead I felt a hand in my hair. It gripped and twisted painfully, making me cry out. I reached up, trying instinctively to claw away that merciless grip, but to no effect, and I found myself being dragged that way, out of the room and into the huge church. I felt as though my hair were being pulled out by the roots as I was thrown roughly down the steps, collapsing on the Persian carpet with a sob.

I looked up, wanting desperately to believe that someone else had come down to this underground place and was treating me this way… frightening me like this… but I only looked up at Erik, still without the mask, his face twisted in pain and almost murderous anger. The wig too had been discarded or misplaced, and I saw now that he had little to no hair, save a few grey, wispy strands here and there. Towering over me, dressed now in a long black robe, I shuddered as my mind subconsciously likened him to some living version of Death itself… personified before me in all its cruel malevolence.

"How could you?" He spat angrily, his voice no longer beautiful and soothing. Instead it rasped and snarled, making me flinch at every syllable. "Why! What made you do it? What did you hope to gain?"

Feeling the sobs welling up in the face of his fury, I struggled for an explanation for why I had done this. But I was so shocked and confused… I couldn't believe this sudden change. Somehow no coherent words would come to explain the reasons I had thought of previously to justify my actions.

And in my silence, Erik went on bitterly. "I expect this has ruined your little fantasy, hasn't it. You wanted some handsome Adonis, did you? Someone who'd give you a thrill to look at? Is that what you wanted?"

"No! Erik, please…"

"Liar…" he snarled. "You're a liar. Perhaps you've always been a liar, and I was just blind to it. Why… why did I ever trust you? I never should have." He faltered in his rage, and I saw his expression begin to crumble on that death-like face, becoming one of such misery and despair I wanted to die rather than see it. "I let myself love you… I brought you to my home… I gave you everything… and you repay me with this! And now…"

He trailed off as his voice too began to break up with sorrow, and in the face of his mournful silence I had to turn my head away, unable to bear the truth of his words and the responsibility I bore for what was happening.

A strong hand seized me by the throat so harshly that I nearly choked. My head was dragged back around so that Erik's face was inches from mine, and the momentary despair that had been there only moments ago was gone. Instead, burning in those depths, was a renewed anger and outrage that terrified me.

"Don't you dare! Don't you dare turn away from me now! You've taken my mask… you wanted to see my face. So look! Stare and gawp as much as you desire. That's what you wanted, isn't it! Or am I so disgusting you can't even bring yourself to look at me?"

"No," I sobbed, shaking my head even as Erik's grip tightened. "I didn't mean -"

"What?" he demanded. "You didn't mean what? To hurt me? You tear off my mask and expect me to thank you? You ruin what we had and think I'll be happy?"

God, I hated to hear him say it. Did he really believe that this was the end of it? Did he think that I intended to leave him now I knew what he looked like?

"Erik, you don't understand," I cried, desperately trying to talk through his grip on my neck. But I was cut off as his fingers closed tighter, closing off my air supply until I was fighting for each new breath. I tried to pull at his hand, to make him loosen his hold. I was so frantic I even clawed at him with my nails until I drew blood from the flesh. But all this only fuelled his anger. He only loosened his grip when I felt my eyes rolling back into my skull, my body growing weaker. Then he gripped my shoulders instead, drawing me closer to him.

"I understand this," he said, his voice now dangerously soft. "I don't believe I can ever trust you again… not now. But that is immaterial. That is all that has changed. Nothing else." And he drew me closer, until I could feel his breath on my face and the wild pounding of his heart. "You are still mine."

And he kissed me. But it was heart-breaking how forced it was. There was no emotion in it other than anger and bitterness… and a ferocity that made me whimper in pain. That whimper caused Erik to push me away from him again, so that I crashed on the floor in a sobbing wreck. Yesterday I would never have believed something like this would be happening to me. I would have dismissed any suggestion that Erik would hurt me. But now… I felt more afraid of him than I ever had.

His back was to me, and breathing harshly, feeling faint and sick, I edged back along the carpet, watching him pace up and down. He shouted up at the arches over our heads, declaring his fate, his misery and his anger to the stone that surrounded this place. More than once he seemed on the verge of breaking into sobs, but then he would look at me, see my fear, and renew his angry curses. He was too caught up in it to notice me moving away. Using one of the crying angels, I pulled myself to my feet, still feeling weak and my throat pained and raw from crying and Erik's suffocating grip.

I watched him pace… watched until he was as far away from me as possible…

Then I ran. I ran as fast as I could, hearing the outraged shout behind me as I tore through one of the passageways, into the little room I had changed in last night, and into the bathroom, the only room with a door. Turning frantically, I pushed the door shut just before the figure in black reached me. There was a tremendous thud and the entire frame shook as Erik threw his weight against the wood, but I kept it shut long enough to slide the huge iron bolt across.

"Open this door!"

Erik's shouts of anger came through as he hammered his fists against the door, but that was all that passed the barrier. The bolt held, but I pressed my back against it as well, feeling wretched sobs taking over my body, begging Erik to stop and hearing nothing but his ugly threats and enraged orders. Finally I couldn't handle it and pressed my fists tightly over my ears, blocking out as much of the sound as possible. I sank to my knees on the stone floor, my whole body jumping at every thud against the door I leaned against. But I didn't move.

I was afraid… truly afraid, that if I obeyed him and opened the door I would meet my end.


	21. Chapter 20

Here's the new chapter. I'm glad the previous chapter was well recieved, depressing though it was. This one isn't much better, I'm afraid. Thanks again for all the lovely reviews. Don't stop!

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Chapter 20

I sat on that cold floor long after my sobs and dried up and the noise on the other side of the door had ceased. Every part of my body felt sore, but inside I felt crushed.

I had no idea how long Erik had pounded on the door, half-screaming, half-sobbing at me to come out… but even when he had left I heard the sounds of objects being smashed and angry chords from the piano. It sounded as though he were tearing the place apart.

My mind would still not fully take in what was happening. It wasn't even the memory of Erik's face that was haunting me. Somehow, his appearance was immaterial to me now. It didn't matter. But Erik's reaction did. For the first time since first meeting him I had actually believed he would kill me. He almost had, I realised as I reached up and fingered the bruising on my neck where he had held me in that death grip.

That had brought a sudden, horrific realisation to my mind. Up until now I had almost succeeded in convincing myself that Erik was not dangerous, at least to me. I hadn't wanted to believe it. In fact, I had almost begun to believe that the man I had first met, who had pulled me down here by force and threatened me and my family, had been someone else entirely… not the kind, generous Erik I had fallen in love with. Now I was struck with the harsh reality that there was no distinction between the two. There was only one Erik.

And there lay my dilemma. My Erik… the one I loved and had given myself to, was a murderer. That, perhaps, I could have lived with. But how was I supposed to live with the knowledge that, even in spite of his love for me, he was still capable of causing me this kind of pain… of putting his hand around my throat and squeezing the air from me until I was close to unconsciousness. How close had I been to dying? I hardly dared think. And it had been Erik's doing.

How was I meant to recover from that? My horror at seeing his face had been momentary. This fear of his anger I now felt could last a lifetime.

God… maybe it would have been better if I hadn't removed his mask. Bitterly I pressed my palm against my forehead. What good was regretful 'if only's going to do me now? It would change nothing. I had done what I had done. Even if I hadn't tonight, it probably would have happened sooner or later… possibly with the same result. But I would never know now. All I could hope for now was to escape with my life.

I sobbed. I don't know what upset me more, the desperate hope that I would live, or the fact that I felt the need to 'escape'.

I couldn't fathom any courage for a long time, and even when I went through the door I was trembling like a leaf, flinching at every shadow. I found myself praying for an outcome that did not involve death or more anger. Maybe it wasn't too late to regain Erik's trust… maybe I could explain why I felt the need to remove his mask… that I didn't find him disgusting, as he seemed to believe now.

Then I imagined him looking at me with that death's head, contorted by anger… asking me if I loved him, nearly threatening the answer from me, and I almost retreated back into the bathroom. I wasn't sure, now, that I could say I loved him and mean it. How could fear and love go together? Maybe I had been fascinated by the fear he inspired in me at one time… but it was his goodness that I had fallen in love with. I was drawn to that darkness about him… excited by that unpredictable character. But that was until I knew how deep that darkness went. All I could hope for now was that he might still retain some of that love and kindness… even after what had happened.

I pushed myself on, listening intently for any sign of life from the main chamber. I pushed back the heavy drape and, at first, thought I was alone. A treacherous part of me said that I might just be able to run for it, run for the entrance to the lair and try to escape. This urge was only heightened by the scene of destruction I saw around me. Almost every statue had been overturned, some broken and smashed, either in the fall or by some other means. Papers and books littered the floor, torn up, crumpled… no place seemed untouched by Erik's anger.

I looked again at the entrance and knew I couldn't do it. Even if I did get past the entrance, I would surely get lost in the labyrinth beyond it. That scared me, being lost in there, knowing that Erik would come looking for me. I shuddered, turned back to the main room…

… and realised that I wasn't alone.

Erik's hunched figure was at the piano, dressed head to toe in black. It made only the faintest of movements as a hand, clutching desperately at a pen, scratched against paper, writing something out feverishly… almost as if there was a demon inside him that could be exorcised through the written words.

I put my hand to my throat again, feeling the soreness. Again I thought about turning back… retreating. But I knew I couldn't. Even if I did… this was an inevitable confrontation. It could happen now, or later, but it _would_ happen. I had to face Erik… even if it was only because I would need, in two more days, to return home.

I panicked. What if he refused to let me go?

Drawing myself together, I wet my lips nervously and then spoke his name in a shaking voice. The scratching of his pen halted instantly, but other than that he didn't move. He didn't even turn to face me as I dared to take a step closer to him. I wished I could see his face, so I would have at least some indication of what he was thinking. But then again, if he turned, he would see how frightened I was.

"Erik, I'm sorry," I said, as if an apology would solve everything, although I knew this was far from true. "I'm so sorry. I just… I don't know what I was thinking." Jesus, my voice was trembling so much I could barely get my words out. "I… I know I shouldn't have done it," I went on, with great effort. "But I felt as if I had to. Like I needed to see. I know that doesn't excuse what I did, but that's just how I felt. And… I don't know if you believe me, but… it doesn't matter to me."

I paused, unsure of how to go on and, at the same time, hoping desperately for a reaction. The tense atmosphere around us was almost as suffocating as Erik's grip had been, and I felt the marks on my neck throbbing in a painful reminder.

"What makes you think I would believe that?" Erik asked in a quiet, cold voice that made me shudder. He still hadn't turned around, but at least now I knew he was listening. "You took off my mask to see my face and suddenly it doesn't matter to you?"

He was getting angry again, I could tell, and I fought to keep a handle on my fear. "It doesn't, Erik. I swear. I just wanted to… to understand you. That's all."

He laughed, softly and bitterly. "That's all?" he asked with more than a trace of sarcasm. "You're telling me you feel no regret? No disgust? That you don't wish I looked like that boy?"

I was glad he still hadn't turned, otherwise he would have seen me wince, knowing whom he referred to. Somehow, mentioning Richard seemed a little unfair at this point, but I knew better than to comment on that now and risk inciting that murderous temper. Instead I replied: "Yes," making my voice as firm as possible. "Please believe me," I went on, and I really pleaded now. "I don't care about how you look." Then, remembering Erik's words earlier, I added. "Like you said… it's changed nothing."

Oh, I wished that were true. Desperately I wished that nothing had changed. But it had, even if I dared not say so aloud to him. It might not have been because of his face, but something had altered this relationship to the point where I felt I couldn't go back anymore. I was going to have to live with this for the rest of my life… with this fear. And even though the thought made me miserable, it was the price I had to pay for my life.

My words seemed to have made some impact on Erik, because now he turned to face me. But I didn't flinch at the sight of his face, even without the mask. I wanted to prove to him that it was true… that his face didn't matter to me. That, at least, was not a lie.

"You mean that?" he asked, his eyes staring directly into mine, searching for some hint of doubt or fear. I pushed aside my thoughts of escape… the misery and fear I felt… and concentrated, forcing myself to believe the words I had just spoken, knowing I couldn't allow even the barest trace of my uncertainty to show. Then I nodded slowly and as confidently as I could, never breaking eye contact.

"Then come here," he said, holding out his hand to me, as he had done so many times before. This time I had to hide my trembling as I closed the distance between us and put my hand in his. Then he made me jump by taking hold of my other hand, my left hand, and pulling it close to him. As I watched, he reached into the pocket of his coat and pulled something out. I only realised what exactly it was when he tried to slip the little gold band on my finger.

"Wait-" I began, feeling panic take over, and stopping at the feel of Erik's hand tightening around mine in warning. I stopped in my attempt of pulling my hand back and watched as the ring was slipped onto my finger. I swallowed painfully and looked up into his stare which was still somehow cold.

"You belong to me, Christine. Promise me now… give me your word."

Looking up at him, I remembered how, once, I had offered him my word, and he had told me that it meant nothing to him. A spark of hope lit up as I realised that he might still trust me. Maybe there was still some way to save us. But the longer I looked at him, the more I saw that hardness in his face and the coldness in his eyes, I knew it could not be as easy as that.

As the silence went on, his grip on my hand tightened again. "Say it, Christine."

"I promise," I whispered, knowing there was no other way.

And there wasn't. But that didn't make the next two days any easier for me. As the minutes dragged by I felt the weight of guilt and fear become heavier and heavier. It was not made any easier by Erik who, in spite of everything, clearly no longer trusted me. I would catch him watching me, and knew he was looking for something… suspicious of me. It made me want to cry, but I didn't dare. I came to realise, with more than a little resentment, that Erik had changed me. Weeks ago, I would not have stood for this. I would not have listened to Erik blithely declare that I belonged to him as if I were merely an object to be possessed. The old me would have condemned such an arrogant assertion. But this new me, this cowering child that I had become, hardly dared challenge aloud even the smallest of things. Even my gentle teasing had ceased. I was becoming a mindless doll, bending to his will out of fear, and a spark of anger and, I dare say, hatred, lit up in me. I wanted to love Erik… I truly did. But he made it impossible. For Christ's sake… he never even said 'sorry'. That at least would have given me something to cling to. In no way did I wish to become one of those women who, in an abusive relationship, didn't end it because they believed their partner when they said 'I'm sorry'. But personally I would have welcomed even some small show of regret, no matter how temporary. In fact, it was far more terrifying to think that Erik actually believed he had done nothing wrong in responding the way he had.

I couldn't get my head round it all. Down here I was far to scared to think properly.

I had to get out.

The two days, which usually wouldn't have seemed like such a long time, felt like weeks to me under Erik's suspicious gaze. I felt like a prisoner, and as such, thought of little else but escape. In the meantime, however, I was forced to play the part of dutiful 'wife', as I now seemed to be. The ring on my finger was a constant reminder of my situation, and I knew it would continue to haunt me even when I was out of this place. And Erik never let me forget its significance. He would take my left hand in his and look from me to the ring, then bring me close and kiss me. I had to force myself to feel passion, but it was so artificial I began to hate these intimate moments.

Even music couldn't bring us together. Erik spent so much time playing, but everything was a reflection of the atmosphere around us. The chords he played were haunting… sending chills up my spine that were nothing like the pleasurable sensations I had felt previously. But I had to listen… and I sang for him only to take myself out of this place and imagine I was elsewhere

On the final night before I returned home, I nearly cracked under the pressure of keeping up the pretence. The previous night I had slept in Erik's bed, but he had not tried to make love to me. But he seemed aware that that night would be the last opportunity for a long time, and he brought me into his arms. He was gentle, but I could feel something lurking behind his tenderness that made me afraid to refuse him, but even more afraid to let him go on. Tensed up and trembling, I nearly burst into sobs at his touch, and the moment he reached up and felt the tears on my cheeks he drew away and, in the darkness, turned his back on me. I continued to cry quietly, knowing that I was only further destroying his trust in me, if any yet remained.

The time for me to return finally came, and as Erik led me up I had to conceal my relief. Perhaps some time apart from him would do something… help us both get over things. In all honesty, I was just glad that Erik had decided to bring me back at all. I didn't kid myself with the illusion that he might trust me enough to let me go free. I knew he was only doing this because he had to. I couldn't just disappear off the face of the earth with no explanation. People would look for me… there would be 'interference'.

We were silent on the way up, and only at the entrance to his home did we stop and exchange a few words.

"You will be returning to England tomorrow," Erik said as is clarifying the fact. His voice was flat, like an automated voice. Devoid of almost all emotion.

"Yes," I replied, in a similar monotone.

"I will follow you soon."

"Okay."

This was what my captivity had brought me to… hardly daring more than a one word answer. God, I hated this. I hated the way we were. It made me want to run away to some far corner of the world where I could forget about this whole mess… away from my guilt and Erik's soul-destroying mistrust.

It was all I could do not to flinch when Erik raised his hand and stroked his fingers against my cheek. But I kept my gaze steady on his, secretly dreading this goodbye for so many reasons.

"I love you," he said softly. "You do know that, don't you?"

For a second, one split second, I thought I detected a hint of something unfamiliar in his voice… a break in his recent hard and cold exterior. Some hopeful display of pained sorrow and regret. But the moment didn't last long before those grey eyes hardened once again, steeling up against any further emotional hurt. My heart sank even further as I realised how deeply I had hurt him… was still hurting him.

I opened my mouth to reply, but my voice stuck in my throat and I almost choked. No… I couldn't cry… I couldn't…

Desperate to hide this breakdown to some degree, I pressed myself against Erik tightly, my face buried in his chest. My entire body was shaking terribly.

"I love you," I murmured against Erik's chest, as if I could speak to the real him that was now buried somewhere deep inside, under all that anger and hatred. I prayed that he would hear me, and believe me. Because I did still love him…in spite of everything. The memory of who he had been before I removed his mask was still vivid, and that was all I clung to now amidst all my fear.

We said goodbye, and the sound of the stone passageway closing up had never sounded so ominous. But I didn't break down in tears straight away… I couldn't risk that Erik might be listening on the other side of the wall. I dragged myself up to my room, collapsed on my bed, and sobbed so loudly the whole neighbourhood must have heard me. I didn't care though… I need to cry now, if only to get this wretched feeling out of my system to some extent. I couldn't let my family see me this way… for all our sakes. Because with this change in Erik I felt the return of an old fear. It was not only my life I had to be scared for now.

In another hour my father and Paula returned. They had picked Joseph up on the way, so we were all back together under one roof. But I felt none the better for it.

I had to be careful though. From the Monday morning to the Tuesday I had to hide things from my parents. My sombre mood I was able to pass off as not wanting to leave and go back to school. My jumpiness was more difficult… but I just laughed off any comments about it. Worst, however, was having to conceal the marks Erik had placed on me with his anger. My neck had very obvious red marks, that I had to hide under a polo-neck top… my body was sore and bruised in several places and, of course, I now had a rather distinct piece of jewellery on my hand. The only reason I kept it on was because Erik would notice… and I would rather face my father finding out it was there than Erik finding out it was gone.

I made it through the final day, hiding in my room most of the time, packing. Erik didn't appear, but I knew he was nearby. Whether I actually wanted to see him right now I wasn't sure. I wouldn't know how to deal with it… just like I didn't know how to deal with the idea of returning to school, leaving my family behind again with this threat hanging over us all. There was a horrible sense of deja-vu around this whole situation… only this time things were so much worse.

I sat on the plane, picturing the faces of the people I cared about, and bit the back of my knuckles to stop myself from crying.

And I prayed that our most recent goodbye would not be the last.


	22. Chapter 21

I got poked for an update (yep, another late one, I know, sorry), so here you go. Little plot development going on. Iwas going to divide this chapter into two, but that would have made the next chapter very short, and left you guys with a cliffhanger, so I decided to be nice. Up till now the ending of the story has been kind of unsure... but it's gradually taking shape. Whether it'll be happy or sad... well, that remains to be seen.

* * *

Chapter 21

Meg met me at the airport again, and I was glad to see her cheerful face again. It even managed to lift my spirits a bit, but I still had to make an effort to be light and bright for her, so she wouldn't suspect anything. Unfortunately, she did.

"My god, you look terrible," she said as we headed for the bus.

"Thanks," I muttered sarcastically, trying to force a wry smile.

But she didn't laugh, and her forehead creased in worry. "Seriously… you look sick. Are you okay?"

I fumbled desperately for an excuse. "I'm just tired. It wasn't a good flight."

"Is it ever?" she asked humorously. I laughed along with her only to keep up the pretence. God, it was so awful that I had to lie like this. I had been lying to my parents… to Erik… now Meg. My life was just turning into this big act and I could feel the emotional drain. All I wanted to do was fall asleep and pretend none of this nightmare had happened. Then again, I thought, any dreams I had while I slept would probably make me feel even worse. There would be no escape from this. How long was this going to continue? I dreaded to think.

I was too restless on the journey back to school to sleep, but fortunately Meg was exhausted and her head was lolling on my shoulder after about twenty minutes. That, at least, made me smile a little.

If only…

No. No… I couldn't tell her a thing. She knew too much already. It would only put her life in danger to divulge all these secrets I was hiding. And I knew, in some instinctive way, that she would make me feel ashamed of myself.

And perhaps I should feel that way, I realised. After all, when you got right down to it, what had I really known about Erik before that night we had spent together? Next to nothing. Yet I had convinced myself I loved him. Oh… that wasn't fair. I did love him in a sense, even after what had happened. I understood him, probably better than anyone. All that I couldn't understand was why he had reacted so violently to my seeing his face. If he had stopped only for a moment to listen to me then he might have known that it was _because_ I loved him that I had to see. Perhaps then we could have avoided this entire fiasco. Of course I could have avoided it entirely by not removing his mask in the first place. But at the same time I had to remove it…to make him believe that it didn't matter to me, that I could look past his… deformity. I had to know that Erik trusted me.

Well, he certainly didn't now, I thought bitterly to myself. And on top of that I wasn't at all sure I could trust him either… not after having him nearly strangle me to death.

Sighing, I rested my cheek against the top of Meg's head. I couldn't help the worry that Erik might once again threaten the people I cared about, not just my family now but Meg too. Even…

I suddenly felt as though a knife made of ice had been jabbed into my stomach. Oh god… Richard. In all this chaos I had barely thought of him, but now that I did I realised that he, possibly, was in far more danger than anyone else, including myself. Because now that I was slightly less certain about Erik's trustworthiness, and knew how dangerous he could be, even to me, how could I be sure that, in a moment of anger, he wouldn't strike out at someone else I had strong feelings for. I knew that Erik did not like Richard… probably even hated him. And if he felt possessive enough… and, more importantly, distrusted me enough… then it was entirely possible that he might threaten Richard, or hurt him… just to keep us apart.

Well, it would work, I thought to myself. I didn't want to endanger Richard anymore than I wanted to endanger my family. They were all innocents in this. This mess was entirely my fault. If I hadn't met Erik and, for whatever reason, caught his interest, then none of this would ever have happened.

I brushed my hand up against my exposed cheek. I couldn't let anyone see that I was crying.

But the truth of it hurt. This was my fault. I might try and offload blame onto Erik… say he was obsessed and dangerous but in the end I had brought all this on. I had allowed him into my life… hell, I practically invited him to be a part of it. No one else should have to suffer the consequences except me.

And I was determined that no one would.

Which, as with most things, was easier said than done.

Meg, for example. I looked down at her, her head resting heavily on my shoulder, and knew I couldn't just cut her out of my life. She wouldn't allow any such thing, I told myself with a little smile. But I did resolve to be cautious with what we discussed. I couldn't let her start playing matchmaker, and I certainly mustn't give her any more details about Erik. Granted, she didn't know much about him anyway, but she knew there was 'someone else' and that, in itself, was dangerous. But I needed her around. She was my link to normality… a link that I desperately needed to cling to now.

But Richard… how was I supposed to keep up our 'let's be friends' pact with Erik's jealous shadow looming over us? Even being friends with him might be dangerous. But, as I quickly learned on arriving back at school, not being friends with him was going to be tricky. Almost the second I arrived back in my room I received a text message on my phone. It read: HEYA. HOPE U R OK. SEE U IN CLASS 2MORROW. LOVE RICHARD XXXXXX.

Even though the message itself made me smile, its implications haunted me all the way through the night and into the following morning. I was aware that I couldn't blithely turn to Richard and say "Oh, just so you know, we can't be friends anymore. In fact I think it's best we never talk to each other again." But then again I couldn't give him any reason why that was how it had to be…except the real reason, and I definitely wasn't about to make things worse by telling him about Erik.

"Did you have a good holiday?" he asked as we sat down in English class, side by side, just as we had always done.

"Fine," I said in a distinctly non-committal way, wishing I could sound more convincing. He'd already noted my tired look… and being evasive was not going to quell his suspicions. But to be honest I was already tired of the pretence I was having to keep up. My hair was down and I wore a tight-collard shirt to disguise the purpling bruises on my neck, and although I hadn't gone to the extent of wearing gloves, I had worn a jumper, the sleeves of which were pulled down so that the gold band on my finger was hidden from view. I had to be careful not to let them slide up.

"Did you do anything exciting?"

My shoulders were about to lift in a shrug, but then I remembered myself and forced a smile onto my face. "Well, I went to a big concert with my dad. He's doing pretty well with the orchestra over there."

"That's good," Richard said, but I caught him giving me a funny look. I returned it, trying to stare him down, praying he would leave whatever train of thought he had started on. But he didn't… in fact he opened his mouth to ask me something…

"Okay, good morning everyone," the teacher said as he walked in, although he certainly didn't look like he was having a 'good' morning. I, on the other hand, had to contain a sigh of relief when Richard was cut off and forced to turn to the front of the class. But I could tell from his occasional, worried glances that I was not going to be let off the hook that easily. I chewed on my lip anxiously throughout the lesson and jumped when the bell for the end of class rang.

As soon as we left the room, Richard took me by the arm. He didn't seem at all concerned about missing his next class as he pulled me into one of the empty rooms further along the corridor. Even though I had been expecting something like this my heart pounded at the thought of what we would talk about… and what excuses I would have to make. He didn't shut the door behind us, but when he spoke it was in a slightly hushed voice.

"What's going on?" he asked directly.

Folding my arms across my chest, I tried to feign indifference. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes, you do," he replied forcefully, taking a step towards me. "You've been acting weird all morning, and Meg says you were weird last night too."

Inwardly I cursed Meg. I guess my acting skills were not all I had hoped they were. She must have gone to Richard and asked him to interrogate me about what the problem was. It made me angry, in spite of the fact that they only had my best interests at heart.

"Honestly, I'm fine," I insisted, feeling exasperated, but more importantly, frightened that this questioning would go further than was safe.

I could see Richard was still not convinced. But he did not look annoyed with me, only concerned, and although I felt touched by it, it only made me more anxious to keep the truth from him and hopefully keep him safe.

"Christine… listen," he said, now in a slightly strained voice, "I don't care how you feel about me. I mean do but… the thing is I care about you. I really do. And you're the one who wanted us to be friends. So if there's something wrong, and there is," he said with great emphasis, "then I'm not just going to stand by and let you deal with it on your own."

I stared at him in silence for a few moments. Not surprisingly, I was taken aback by the impromptu but obviously heart-felt confession. After experiencing so much childishness in him previously, this mature approach was such a relief it made me want to break down in sobs.

"Richard, I…" I stopped and put my hands up to my eyes, trying to stop my tears with my fingertips. "I know you care and… it's not that I don't appreciate it but…"

I trailed off when I saw Richard's face. He had suddenly gone incredibly pale, and I realised he was no longer looking at my eyes or face but at my hands. Slowly he reached out and took my hand, my left hand, in his. Already knowing what I would see, I followed his gaze and swallowed the bile collecting in my throat as we both looked in silence at the gold ring on my finger. If I had felt bad about the state of things before, now I felt a million times worse.

"Christine…"

Richard's voice was barely even a whisper. It sounded choked on confusion and the lump in my throat grew larger as his eyes finally looked up into mine, desperate for an explanation.

"Christine?"

My name was spoken again, but Richard's lips had not moved. I realised the voice came from behind Richard and I looked over his shoulder to see a figure, slightly blurred by the tears in my eyes, standing in the open doorway.

"Yeah?"

"I just got a message. You need to go to the headmaster's office right now."

There was a pause, and I looked back at Richard. He was still staring at me intently, as if he actually expected me to give him an answer right at that very moment. But the person was still standing there, also waiting for me to answer, and I nodded.

"Sure, I'll… I'll be there in a second."

Whoever the person was, they left after that, and I was alone with Richard, who was still pale and obviously shaken by his discovery of Erik's ring. Finally he seemed to find his voice, although it was quiet and shaky now.

"What the hell is this, Christine? What's going on?"

"I…" I swallowed the lump in my throat again. "I can't tell you. I'm sorry."

"What are you…?" he trailed off, disbelieving. Now he was pulling away from me, as if he'd suddenly discovered I had some contagious disease. He looked hurt and even a little disgusted, and I felt a dry sob escape my throat at his next words. "I can't believe this…"

"Richard, please… if I could explain - "

"Well why don't you?" he snapped angrily. "I'd love to hear you're explanation for _that,_" and he made a sickened gesture at my hand. Hastily I pulled my sleeve back over it and bit my lip, thinking of something to say… anything…

"If I told you… it'd just make things worse…"

"Worse?" he said, almost shouted. "You've apparently gone and got yourself married or engaged or whatever. How could things get worse?"

If only he knew, I thought bitterly to myself, remembering Erik's jealous remark about how I would have preferred him to look like Richard. There was so much danger in revealing things to Richard, someone who had so innocently placed himself in the path of the storm. Maybe… maybe it would be better to just let him think the worst of me and then that would be the end of it all. He wouldn't be in danger then.

"Christine, come on," he said, his mood suddenly changing from righteous anger to desperate concern. "Please just tell me what's going on."

"I can't," I sobbed.

"Why not?" he demanded.

"Because I…" I stopped suddenly, and then lowered my voice, aware suddenly of the open door and voices down the corridor. "Because I don't want you to get hurt."

And with those words I suddenly knew I had to tell him everything. Even if it put him in danger, he would never leave me be until he knew the whole story, whether it was for his own good or not.

"Christine, please…"

"I can't," I interrupted. "Not now… I have to go…" And I sped quickly past him towards the open door, my mind racing frantically. When I was about to leave I stopped and turned to see Richard looking after me, his eyes wide with worry and sudden fear, though whether it was for himself, or me, or both of us, I didn't know.

"I'll… I'll come and see you soon, okay." I said, trying to sound reassuring in spite of the circumstances. "I'll explain everything… I promise."

And then I left him, hoping that the damage done was not irreparable. God, I'd never felt so sorry for him in my life. Finding the ring… the possibility that his life was in danger… not exactly a great way to start the week, I thought with bitter sarcasm. Well, he wasn't the only one with problems. On top of everything else I was heading to the Headmaster's office for God knew what reason. Maybe I was behind on my work… maybe it was to discuss my options for a future…

_If I even have one anymore_, I thought angrily as I rubbed my eyes and took a few deep breaths, hoping to disguise the fact that I had just been crying. Once I was outside the headmaster's door I took another few deep breaths, tweaked my collar and raked my fingers through my hair, as much to disguise the marks on my neck as to attempt to smarten up. Then I knocked as confidently as I could.

"Come in," was the muffled reply, and I turned the handle, forcing myself to smile as I entered and saw the headmaster, sitting in his chair. He was generally a friendly man, both in disposition and appearance, but today he was looking distinctly grim and serious. The room, too, felt oddly cold. I wondered if it always felt this way, or if it was just the sense of formality and sombreness of this particular meeting.

"Good morning, Christine," the headmaster said, sounding as grave as he looked. Well, that certainly blew any hopes I had of it being something good he wanted to talk about. Wondering what could possibly have occurred to warrant such seriousness, my stomach suddenly plummeted…

Had something happened to my family?

"Good morning," I said in reply, trying to hide my nervousness and worry. I was about to take the seat he offered me when I realised quite suddenly that we were not alone in the room. There were two other people here… two men…

One of them wore a police uniform.

"Christine, this is Officer Russell and Detective Neilson." Each man nodded in response to his own name. I noticed the man dressed in plain clothes, who was sturdily built, middle-aged, but seemingly friendly, was the detective. His companion looked much younger, and gave me a slight smile along with the nod. I inclined my head in greeting to them, but couldn't help the sense of trepidation creeping up my spine as I wondered exactly what they were here for.

"We were hoping to ask you a few question, Miss Day," said the detective in a casual tone.

I frowned in genuine confusion. "About what?"

"About Charlotte Mason."

There was an incredibly long pause. All I could so was stare at the detective, my expression of confusion fixed on my face, but my mind tumbling about as thoughts and memories collided and created chaos. _Charlotte_... I had completely forgotten about her… and the conversation I had had with her father the night of the concert, when he had expressed his concern about her sudden illness. What was it he had attributed it too again?

Poisoning?

"Charlotte?" I asked, making sure I wasn't having some kind of messed up nightmare.

Detective Neilson nodded, his lips pursed together slightly. I had the feeling he was eyeing me up as he spoke. "She's a classmate of yours, is that correct?"

"Yeah… we have Music together," I said, carefully. I was still not entirely sure why I was here, being questioned, but when the headmaster told me to take a seat I did so, sitting straight up and gripping the edges of the chair tightly, as if I might fall off. I looked unsteadily at the three men, feeling very much in the spotlight as they watched me with cool, analysing stares. My heart pumped blood through me at an alarmingly fast rate… making me feel hot and causing the bruises on my neck to ache terribly. I had to force myself not to reach up and loosen my collar as I waited for the next question.

"And do you know where she is now?" the detective asked.

Stupid question, I thought to myself. He must know that I knew where Charlotte was. Everyone in school did after all. "Her father told me she was in hospital," I said.

"Do you know why?"

"Well, her father said it was poisoning."

The police officer, who had been listening and writing something on a small black pad he held in his hand, looked up now with a quizzical expression. "When exactly did you speak to her father?"

"The night of the concert… the same day she was sent into hospital."

"And this was the concert Miss Mason was _meant_ to perform in, am I right?"

His emphasis on the word 'meant' struck an ominous chord inside my brain. It carried a hint of… accusation. Whatever the intent of the question had been, it riled me up sufficiently to cause me to simply nod in reply and then ask my own question. "What exactly is this about?"

"Well, like Mr Mason told you… his daughter has been poisoned," the detective said, although for some reason his expression seemed to have become lighter. As if I had said something that pleased him and he was trying to hide it.

"On purpose?" I asked, stupidly.

"We can only assume as much," the detective admitted with a slight shrug. "That is what we are investigating here."

I thought about this, with a sidelong glance at the headmaster. I could see now why he looked so grim. Having the police come and investigate the possibility of someone being poisoned, whether by accident or purposefully, was not exactly a good thing to happen at any school. I could remember, vividly now, that Charlotte's father had mentioned his intent to investigate what had happened. It appeared he was true to his word.

"But why are you 'investigating' me?" I asked, already able to guess the answer, but wanting to hear it directly anyway.

"We've come to understand that you and the young girl were… not exactly the best of friends, shall we say."

In spite of myself, I scoffed loudly. "You can say that again… she hated me."

"Any idea why?" the young officer said, clearly interested.

I shrugged. Not liking to sing my own praises, I didn't particularly want to say that Charlotte might have been jealous of me. Okay, she was a good singer, but she had never appreciated the competition I represented to her. It wasn't like I had gone out of my way to make her hate me, because I hadn't. I'd just been myself and, unfortunately, she didn't like it.

When I didn't reply aloud, the detective answered for me. "Apparently you two are quite… competitive in class."

"_She's _competitive," I said.

He tilted his head at me. "Meaning what, exactly?"

"Meaning that she doesn't like anyone who can sing."

The police officer was scribbling all this in his notebook, nodding along to my replies. But both he and the detective gave small frowns at my response, and I wondered if they had been to see Charlotte, and what she might have said in response to the same questions.

"And how do you feel about her?" the detective asked.

"I try to ignore her," I replied truthfully, although the memory of Charlotte's mocking laughter and distasteful stares made me bubble with anger inside.

"You've never bullied her? Called her names? That kind of thing?"

Again there was a long pause as I digested this information and felt my chest tighten at how monstrously unfair the accusation was. If there had been any bullying… any calling of names, then it had been Charlotte who was the culprit and I who was the victim. Inside I seethed with anger… and then sudden panic. Was Charlotte trying to place the blame for her illness on me?

"No, I never did anything like that," I said, but the worry was present in my voice, and I could see that they all picked up on it. Tears pricked in the corners of my eyes as I wondered who they believed… and what it might lead to. "Am…" I swallowed. "Am I in trouble?"

Both the detective and officer looked at me and exchanged glances between themselves and the headmaster. I was glad to see the detective turn back to me with a small, reassuring smile on his face. "Don't worry, Miss Day. This is just a routine questioning."

But I was not stupid enough to believe that. "You're establishing a motive, aren't you."

This actually got a slight chuckle from the police officer, and a wry grin from the detective. "Watch a lot of cop shows, do you, Miss Day?" Then he shook his head. "Well… we can't tell you much… but we can't say that any lead was left un-investigated."

My grip on the sides of my seat tightened. It didn't take a genius to guess how they had got this 'lead'. Obviously Charlotte had fed them some story about how I was jealous of her for singing in the concert and was out to get her. The very idea sickened me almost as much as the initial fact that someone had deliberately poisoned her. And things were only made worse when I realised that I might actually know who was behind the whole thing… I might not have concrete evidence of Erik's involvement in this… but I couldn't deny the possibility that he might have acted on my behalf… poisoning Charlotte in the hope that I would replace her. It made sense, especially when you considered how angry and upset it had made me… how much that concert had meant to me… and Erik's own obsession. If he had wanted to make me happy….

He _could_ have been responsible. But giving them Erik's name… turning him in… such a thing was unthinkable, wasn't it? As if I hadn't betrayed his trust enough already. What worse thing could I do than turn him in to the police? Even if he were only locked away for a year or two, he would not escape publicity… his face would see to that. No… I couldn't do that to him. I couldn't put him through that kind of pain… not after everything else.

But would that mean I took the blame for it?

"Don't worry," the detective was saying, obviously noting my worried expression. "We're not going to arrest you. But there are a few more questions we'd like you to answer, if you don't mind."

I nodded mutely, afraid to open my mouth in case I gave some vital information away.

"Is there any other reason you can think of that someone might wish to harm Charlotte Mason? Anything at all?"

I felt like saying the fact that she was a total bitch might be reason enough, but decided against it. Instead I shook my head and said plainly that no, I personally couldn't think of any reason why someone would do such a thing.

"Is there anyone who might choose to act on your behalf then?"

I nearly jumped out of my skin at the question. But I quickly calmed down when I realised that they couldn't possibly know about Erik. On the other hand… if they didn't know about Erik… then what else could they possibly mean? I frowned back at the detective.

"I'll take that as a 'no', shall I?" he said with a smile. "Well… that'll do just fine for now. Thank you for your time, Miss Day."

I rose shakily to my feet, but they weren't prepared to let me leave just yet. "We might need to talk to you again in a few days, if that's alright… and, of course, if you think of anything that might be useful, please be sure to tell us."

I nodded, then said a quiet and polite goodbye to them. Not wanting to linger any longer than necessary, I went to the door and, with only a very brief backward glance, left the three men alone. I guessed they would probably discuss what useful information they had gotten from my 'interrogation', and I panicked about it all the way back to my boarding house. More than anything their final question disturbed me. Who could they possibly think would act on my behalf? Poisoning someone for me? Okay… so they were probably right, but they didn't know about Erik, so what could possibly have driven them to ask that question?

I didn't know… and wasn't at all sure I wished to find out.


	23. Chapter 22

Yeah, I know... late update again. I should have mentioned in my last update that the last week and next week are going to be pretty busy and I won't get much time to write anything. Hopefully in two weeks or so I'll be back on track. Until then, please bear with me... and enjoy this new chapter.

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Chapter 22

I was starting to get the impression that my life had hit rock bottom. As if I didn't have enough problems… enough things to worry about without the police being added into the mix. On my way back to the boarding house I looked up at the sky despairingly.

"What did I do to deserve this?" I asked, as if God were hovering up in the clouds, listening. Somehow I doubted it. Given the state of things, I was beginning to wonder if He had ever been there at all.

And the police being here… it would probably make matters worse between me and Erik. He was already suspicious of me. What would he think now? That I would betray him again? As I thought about our last meeting, the way he had behaved, then I could well imagine him growing angry yet again, even if this was technically _his_ fault. But now I knew just how unreasonable he could be, especially when his temper was up… the very thought of it made me reach up to my throat yet again.

Well, at least hopefully I would not have to face him anytime soon. For all I knew he might not even be in England yet. He had said he would follow me 'soon'. Maybe that meant he had something to do back in Italy that would keep him there.

Hopefully that would at least give me the opportunity to try and solve this new problem, and, of course, talk to Richard. There was no way I could avoid him after what he had seen before. Angry and distressed, I twisted that infernal ring around my finger, and pulled it off. Looking at it, lying on my palm, it was hard to believe that I could regard something so simple with such loathing, but it represented so much to me… so much that I didn't want to have to think about.

I wondered if I dared hurl it away from me… drop it in a gutter somewhere. But no sooner had that thought entered my head that tears sprang to my eyes and I closed my fist around the little gold band. I couldn't hurt Erik by discarding this gift. More importantly, I couldn't bear the thought of what he might do to me if he saw it was gone.

All through the rest of the day I waited for some word from Richard. Every single one of my lessons, even Music, seemed to drag by. I looked at the clock, and only a minute would have passed, but it would feel like an hour. My music teacher couldn't understand what was wrong with me, and even tried to wheedle my problems out of me.

"You do know you can talk to me if you need to?" she said, her arm around my shoulders.

"I know," I replied, almost choking on the lump that had risen in my throat. If I told her anything that would just be another innocent person in danger.

"Is it boy trouble?" she asked unknowingly.

I left the room in tears.

Finally, as the end of the afternoon approached, I ran out of patience and sent a message to Richard's mobile. It read: I REALLY NEED 2 SEE U. MEET ME BEHIND THE GYM AT 5:00. My heart felt like it was going to explode as I pressed the 'send' button. I was aware of the monumental betrayal I was about to commit against Erik. But telling Richard was a necessary evil now, and all I could hope was that Erik would not be here to witness it, and would never find out what I had done.

I started when my phone buzzed and beeped. A text message… and it was from Richard. It said, quite simply: SEE U THERE. The blunt coldness of the message made my chest tighten, but I had to content myself with the fact that at least he was giving me a chance to explain things and not just cutting me off.

Waiting for Richard to arrive behind the gym was like waiting for some kind of death sentence, and I varied between pacing back and forth to leaning against the wall, fidgeting. Two younger boys rounded the corner, and I nearly panicked, but then settled. They both gave me strange looks, obviously bemused by my attitude, but I lowered my eyes to the ground and waited for them to leave. I only looked up again when they were out of sight.

"Christine?"

Richard's voice made every muscle in my body go rigid, and I turned almost like a doll on a music box, stiff and robotic. He didn't looked good… pale, worried but, I noted with surprise, not angry. I just hoped he wouldn't be angry after hearing what I had to say.

"Hi," I said, biting my lip when there was only a long, uncomfortable silence. "I… er… can we go for a walk?" I asked nervously.

He shrugged, and that only made me feel worse. So we set off for the woods, where hopefully no one would hear or disturb us. Most people were out on the sports pitches, playing rugby or whatever. I had excused myself from sports for the day, and I guessed Richard had done the same. We could hear the coach shouting as we moved away, until gradually there was only the nearby birds in the trees to hear us.

I was still wracking my brain for something to say, wondering where the hell I was meant to begin with my explanation, when Richard suddenly spoke up.

"I guess all this is pretty serious."

For a second I stared at him. Part of me wanted to tell him, angrily "well of course this is serious, you idiot" before I realised that he didn't yet know how serious things were. When I frowned in confusion he went on.

"I got called into the headmaster's office this morning, probably just after you." He waited a second, allowing the meaning of this statement to sink in. And it did, slowly, the reality tightening around my chest until I couldn't breathe. Now at least I understood what the detective had meant by the question "would anyone choose to act on your behalf?" Did they actually think that…?

"Richard… I…" I couldn't think what to say.

"I though it was bad enough… finding out about…" he trailed off, but I knew what he was referring too, and the ring on my finger seemed to burn against my skin suddenly. "But now I'm being interview by the police for god's sake! Do you know what they think I did? Do you have any idea how bad this is?"

Tears were coming already and I knew it was useless to try and fight them at this point. "It gets worse," I choked out before bursting into loud, noisy sobs. I covered my face with my hands as I cried, allowing myself this breakdown and knowing it probably wouldn't be the only one that would occur as I tried to explain things to Richard.

A pair of warm arms went around me, gentle and comforting. Richard pulled me against his chest and cradled me, one hand holding the back of my head, entangled in thick brown hair. For a long time I just let my sobs come as I clung to my ex-boyfriend, grateful for this comfort he was offering, even when he should have been angrily yelling at me and walking out of my life for good.

"Come on, Chris… you've got to tell me what's going on."

I nodded against his chest and pulled back a little wiping my eyes. It took a few deep breaths and lots of sniffing for me to get myself under control. I almost lost it again when I saw how genuinely concerned Richard was, but sucked in another breath.

"I… I know who did it. I know who poisoned Charlotte."

His eyes widened a little. "What? If you know then why didn't you just tell them?"

"I can't!"

"What do you mean you can't?" He was nearly shouting now. I flinched at his expression of outrage, but I really couldn't blame him for being angry. "Or would you rather _I_ got blamed for this? Or you?"

"You don't understand," I replied frantically. "If I tell them who did it then it'll just make things worse!"

"How the hell could things get worse?"

My desperation reached a peak, and finally, unable to articulate my dilemma in words, I pulled my hair away from my neck and peeled back the collar of my shirt, knowing all too well what would be revealed to Richard. I watched the colour drain from his face as he reached out and touched the purple marks on my throat. I winced as he pressed one a little too hard, and he drew back in shock.

"Jesus, Christine… who did this to you?"

I shut my eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath.

"Erik."

There it was. The real betrayal… telling someone his name. It was like the world held its breath with me as I waited to hear what Richard would say now, with that look of horror now mixed with one of confusion.

"Who… who's Erik?"

My god, I didn't want to have to explain all this, but it was far too late to say I couldn't. Nothing could make Richard forget what he already knew and what I had just shown him. But Erik…

"He's…" I began, then had to stop to get my sobs back in check. "I met him in Rome."

I could see this piece of information sinking in, and watched it being added with everything else I had already told Richard. Even in my own head I knew how it sounded. In fact I found myself growing aware of just how despicable my behaviour had been over the past few months. Now I realised just how stupid I had been… how childishly romantic and naïve. I should never have gotten involved with Erik… never let things get so out of hand.

Suddenly I hated myself more than ever.

"So is he the one who gave you… _that_ too?" Richard asked, gesturing towards my left hand with a look of such loathing I wanted to cut off the offending limb.

"He's the reason for everything," I said miserably. "This…" I held up my hand, "these…" I gestured at my throat, "even Charlotte."

Richard's expression stiffened ever so slightly. "Is he the reason you broke up with me too?"

Guilt welled up painfully. "I don't know," I said, which was partly true. "He… I was confused. The things he said to me about us… I don't know. Maybe he was the reason." From the expression on his face, Richard was not happy with this explanation, so I resorted to the truth. "I thought I loved him."

"And now you don't?"

I shook my head. "I don't know. Maybe but… he scares me. What he did to me… even what he did to Charlotte." Again I gestured to the marks on my neck helplessly.

"Why did he do that to her?" Richard asked.

"To get her out of the way. So I could perform in the concert instead of her."

He still looked confused. "But that's crazy… why did he need to do that?"

"I don't know… maybe because Charlotte had been picking on me all the time. And he thought I deserved to sing. He…" Another tightening around my chest. "He knew how much it meant to me." I gave a sad little shrug.

"He did it for you?"

Nodding, I lowered my eyes, unable to look him in the face as I replied. "He's in love with me."

Richard visibly stiffened at this, and I could only imagine what he was thinking. I waited to see what he would say next, and was surprised that it was concern, not anger, that lay in his words.

"If that's true then what about these?" he asked, indicating the marks on my throat.

Swallowing hard, I began to explain what had happened between me and Erik over the half-term break. Obviously I left out certain details, hardly able to bear the thought of telling Richard every single intimate event. It was hard enough to deal with the memory of just how much I had been in love, and how blissfully happy I had been with Erik in the time before I removed his mask.

"He was so… gentle," I said, leaning up against a nearby tree as I recounted certain events. "And then suddenly he was like a completely different person. And I know I shouldn't have done it but…" I trailed off again and lowered my head. It was no use declaring how much I wanted to reverse time… far far back…

"What did… what did he look like?"

Bile rose in my throat at the question, regardless of how inevitable it had been. "He… oh god, Richard… it was awful. I didn't believe anyone could look like that." New sobs threatened to rise as I remembered poor Erik's face, twisted with pain and misery at my betrayal and then filled with such anger… "He looks like… like someone who's been dead for a year. Like…" Unable to go on I simply shook my head, and felt two tears slide down my cheeks.

There was a long silence and finally I had to look up at Richard. He was just standing there, watching me cry, and I saw how pained his expression was.

"You still love him, don't you."

It was more like a statement than an actual question, but I shook my head in response to it. "I told you, I don't know. I mean… I suppose I do, but now I'm scared to even be near him. I hate being so scared… not being able to trust him like I used to."

Yet another long, painful silence. I was aware how much it must hurt Richard to hear all these things, since he felt so much for me. Part of me knew that my feelings for him had not died. I was still unsure whether Erik had been right in his belief that my feelings for Richard were only nostalgic memories of a childhood crush. Wasn't that a form of love after all? And an emotion such as that had to be strong to survive all this time.

Without thinking I went to him and put my arms around his neck. Holding him tight, I said, quietly, "I'm sorry… I'm so sorry for everything."

After a few seconds I felt his arms go around me and I nearly cried with relief. It was nice, even for such a sort time, to feel safe and protected, knowing that Richard would never ever put his hands on my neck and try to squeeze the life from me… never frighten me so terribly…

"I'm so scared," I whispered into his shoulder. "I'm so scared of what he's going to do. I don't want him to hurt me, or my family… or you."

There was a pause as we simply held each other, lost in our individual thoughts, before Richard finally spoke again. "You really think he would do that? Hurt the people around you?"

"Maybe… if it meant keeping me with him."

"He's that obsessed?"

Wincing at the word 'obsessed', but unable to disagree with its use, I merely nodded against his shoulder and clung tighter to him, feeling him squeeze me in his arms.

"Christine, you've got to go to the police. Tell that detective… they'll get you some help. They'll protect you."

I shook my head. "I can't tell them. I just can't… I can't turn Erik in."

"Because you love him?"

I gave an exasperated sigh. "It's not just that. Richard… you know what they'll do to him if they catch him. The media… his face will be all over the news. The tabloids would tear him to pieces! You can't ask me to do that to him."

"Christine," and here he took me firmly by the arms and shook me a little. "Look at yourself. No matter how this guy looks he's got no right to do this to you. He deserves to go to prison for what he's done."

Looking at him despairingly, I shook my head. "I can't. He doesn't deserve to suffer anymore than he already does."

"He can't use his face as an excuse! People get born with all kinds of deformities all over the world. You hear about them on the news. And _they_ don't do around threatening and hurting people. _They_ get help. Maybe if we turn him in he can get some help… deal with his problems."

A hearing these words a jolt of understanding went through my body. I stared at Richard and then felt my head slowly nodding of its own accord as my thoughts began to rush forward. He was right, in a sense. No matter the deformity… it didn't excuse actions like the ones Erik had committed. But there was an element of it that might help me to understand Erik… understand the way he thought. Richard was most definitely right about one thing: people born with such deformities… more often than not there was some media attention. Perhaps…

"What? What are you thinking?" Richard asked, seeing my expression.

"You just made me think of something," I said, shaking my head dismissively. "And… I do see what you mean. But I still can't turn him in. Even if I could, I don't think it would do any good. He's managed to avoid the police in Italy."

"What do they want him for over there?"

"That's the point!" I said frantically. "They don't even know he exists. Hardly anyone does. They all think this man committed suicide, but I know Erik had something to do with it. So how do I know telling the police about him will help? It might just put more people in danger. They might not even believe me!"

Richard, I could see, understood this. Even as I went through the scenario in my head it sounded ridiculous. What policeman in their right mind would believe some fantastical story about a masked man who lived beneath the city of Rome? They would probably just think it was a made up… a convenient lie to cover up the fact that we poisoned Charlotte. And then Richard might go to prison… and then who could I go to? No one could protect me from Erik… even Richard. The risk I had taken letting him in on the secret might have been foolish and unnecessary, but the strain of dealing with this alone had become too much.

"But if you don't then what happens? What's this Erik going to do to you?"

"I don't know," I said quite honestly. I had no idea what Erik had planned for me. Maybe he planned on hiding me away with him forever in that underground labyrinth. God, I hoped not. Or, maybe, that would be a mercy. If it meant hat no one else would be in danger then maybe it would be best jus to give in to whatever Erik wanted.

But what about what _I_ wanted? A normal life? A career? To become a famous singer? How could I have any of that living underground?

"Well…" Richard said, a look of determination spreading over his handsome face, "I'm not going to let him do this to you. I'll help you… somehow."

This sentiment was heart-warming and at least succeeded in bringing a smile to my face. I highly doubted Richard could do much to protect me, but just knowing that he was there for me and willing to help made me feel just the slightest bit better. And who knew… maybe he could come up with something. Maybe he could save me from this nightmare.

Feeling so indebted to him, I again put my arms around his neck and held him tight. Once again I revelled in the safety of his arms, but was struck by a wave of sadness as I remembered that Erik had once inspired the same feeling of safety in me, sometimes just with the power of his voice. Trembling, I fought back tears as I hugged him tighter, wishing there was some way for me to understand my true feelings not just about him and Erik but about everything that was happening.

And perhaps there was a way to do that.

"We should get back," Richard said suddenly, and when I looked at the time I realized he was right. I had to go back to the boarding house. Nodding, I pulled back from him, but not before he placed a soft, reassuring kiss on my forehead. Even though it startled me to feel this, I sound myself smiling, tears brimming in my eyes. He really did forgive me for what had happened… for falling in love with someone else.

If only Erik's forgiveness were so easy to gain.

"What are you going to do now?" he asked as we walked back.

"I don't know. I've got an idea… but I don't know if it'll help much. If it does I'll let you know."

"Okay… I'll give you a call tonight."

"Okay."

On instinct, as much in gratitude as anything else, I kissed his cheek. But I wouldn't allow myself any more than that. I didn't want my thoughts and feelings to get any more confused than they already were. And besides… allowing myself to feel something for Richard again… something that was more than friendship… that would be too great a danger to his life.

I walked back to the boarding house, full of a new determination. Talking to Richard had helped a little, not just with giving me an idea, but my attitude felt somewhat better. _Got it off my chest_, I thought to myself with a small smile. Well… obviously not completely. The problem was still there… and it wasn't going to go away just this minute, as much as I wished it would.

That was the thing… I realised. I cried and complained about all my problems with Erik… saying how miserable I felt and how despairing… but I had been dealing with all this for barely a week. Erik had dealt with it all his life. This mistrust of people… his anger at the world in general. How could I possibly have the nerve to cry about how bad my life was going when Erik's was infinitely worse. Even though Richard was right when he said that other people with deformities didn't go to the lengths Erik had, I couldn't help feeling a little understanding about the things he had done, no matter how terrible.

And if other people didn't go to those lengths… then why would Erik? There had to be some explanation, I told myself. Somewhere in his past…something must have taken place that turned him into this distrustful and violent man. He had told me that he wanted to leave his memories of France, the country of his birth, undisturbed. But now I felt that the only way to understand Erik was to go back and unearth whatever it was he had been hiding. I didn't know what my search was going to throw up, but it was all I could think of to do.

I was shaking just thinking of doing this… but it had to be done.


	24. Chapter 23

I'm responding to a poke (thank you, Hsibelius). Sorry about the lateness... I did warn you. Anyway... thanks for keeping me at it. Enjoy the latest installment.

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Chapter 23

I sat down in the computer room and logged on, my fingers trembling so much I could barely type my username and password.

I was still unsure whether or not this was a good idea. In fact, I realised as I clicked on the Internet Explorer icon, it might not be much of an idea at all. This could be all for nothing, this little inspiration Richard had triggered in me. And even if I did find out something, what would I do with the information? I supposed it might help with getting to understand why Erik was the way he was. I just hoped I would find something... like an old news report, some article written by someone who may have known him before… I would have welcomed anything, even a measly footnote. Maybe if I found something out then I could make him realise that he could trust me… that he didn't need to threaten me and my friends and family in order to keep me with him.

Not entirely certain where would be the best place to start, I went onto and, with no small amount of trepidation, typed in the words " disfigurement" "France" and finally "Erik".

It was such a long shot, but it was better than sitting around worrying about what Erik was going to do, especially if he found out Richard knew about him. It made my stomach flip just thinking about it… my memory returning to the man I had met so briefly in Rome before his supposed suicide. Something inside me lurched sickeningly. How could I have allowed such a thing to simply slip from my mind? Why didn't I remember it every time I looked at Erik's masked face?

Shaking my head, not wishing to dwell on these thoughts any longer, I looked back to my web search. It would have been better if I knew some more specifics… such as Erik's age, the town he was born in… perhaps even a last name. I couldn't imagine that there was nothing anywhere that might lead to information about him. He couldn't be a complete ghost, could he? People like Erik didn't just drop out of the sky. But I knew that I would be lucky to find anything with the little information on Erik I had. He had supposedly trusted me, but I still knew so little about him. Just the thought of asking him was laughable, and I shifted nervously in my chair at the thought of what he might do to me if I ever dared ask for such details. Even that night, back when he had still trusted me… he had been so reluctant to talk about himself and his past.

Swallowing a lump in my throat at the thought of that night and concentrated of the page that had loaded on my screen. There were a few websites up, I noted with a mixture of exhilaration and relief, but after clicking on each one, I found they yielded nothing of use. All sad stories about people with deformities… but none about Erik. There were a few French websites and, although I could understand a little of what was written, I had to bring up a web translator to help me. But even that didn't bring any useful information to light.

I must have sat in front of that computer for an hour, flicking endlessly and trying all different methods of finding some information on Erik. Finally, lethargically, I decided that I would do one more search, and that would be it. Most of my exhilaration had left me, and I slumped back in my chair as I clicked on a link and waited for the page to load. I rubbed my sore eyes and stifled a yawn.

What came up looked, after it was translated, like a less than professional attempt at telling various stories about a hospital somewhere in the French countryside. The Sainte Marie psychiatric hospital. Whoever had done this research had clearly been more interested in the scandal behind the hospital than anything else, manufacturing horror-story scenarios about what happened to patients there… stories of abuse and malpractice…I read through it all, growing more and more weary as each story failed to tell me anything useful. It sounded like some fan fiction story for "The House on Haunted Hill". But as I read on, it turned out to be a real place. There was a scan of an old newspaper article about a fire that destroyed the building twenty-two years ago, on November 16th 1983 and killed seven people.

There were other stories too… a number of cases of suicide, and reports of the terrible conditions the patients staying at the hospital were forced to live in… all horrific, but not what I was looking for.

I clicked on another story on the same website.

"_Perhaps one of the most gruesome stories that took place behind the walls of this hospital was that of a young boy. According to doctors who worked at the hospital, he was hideously deformed. He became infamous throughout the locality, known as 'The Living Corpse'…"_

It was as though an electric cattle prod had been touched to my central nerve system. I jolted upright in my chair and stared at the screen, eyes so wide they quickly began to hurt.

"_According to doctors working at the hospital, the young boy was mentally handicapped and considered harmless, but was often the subject of abuse from fellow inmates and, according to one doctor, sometimes from the very people who were meant to take care of him."_

By this point I almost couldn't breath. The website still hadn't identified Erik by name… but the words 'living corpse' could not have spelled it out more clearly. Rubbing desperately at my eyes, still hardly able to believe what I was reading, I peered closely at the screen, desperate to see what else it might tell me…

"_These stories are only accentuated by the supposed escape of this boy at the age of fourteen. Several appeals were made to anyone with information on this boy's whereabouts by Doctor Pierre Debienne…"_

Pierre Debienne…

At this definite name I sprang into action. Bringing up a new search I typed in "Dr. Pierre Debienne" along with the name of the town near where the hospital had been. Instantly something came up and I clicked the ink quickly. It was a hospital website, with a list of the staff and, I saw with bitter disappointment, a note saying that Pierre Debienne had retired at the age of 65 only a few weeks before after twelve years of working there. However, there was an e-mail address for the hospital and, after several moments thought, I decided anything was worth a shot at this point, even if they simply said they could not pass my message on.

This is what I typed:

_Dear Sir/Madam,_

_My name is Christine Day. I am trying to contact Dr Pierre Debienne, and heard that, until recently, he was working at your hospital. I understand that you cannot give me his personal details, but if you would please ask him to contact me by replying to this e-mail address or by calling the number below, then I would be very grateful. Tell him it is about Sainte-Marie Hospital and "Erik"._

_Thank you very much._

_Sincerely,_

_Christine Day._

I put my mobile phone number at the bottom and then sat for a little while to think about what I was about to do. This might well be a futile action, not to mention dangerous, but then again, I had thought the same thing about looking for details about Erik on the internet in the first place. I supposed that, once again, I wouldn't achieve anything by not trying and finally resigned myself over to at least sending the e-mail. I translated it into French first, of course, hoping that it would be accurate enough for them to understand, and then pushed the send button.

Looking at the screen as "E-mail Sent" flashed before my eyes, I felt both deep relief and great anxiety. Honestly I was amazed my search had taken me this far, even if some of the details I had revealed were truly horrific. When I went back to study the hospital website again, I began to wonder about some of the terrible stories that were related there. Had Erik been responsible for the fire that destroyed the hospital? Had he even been there at any time? Well, I was very certain of the latter fact, but still… what if this doctor had no idea who I was referring to? Maybe he simply wasn't bothered about finding Erik anymore. After all, this had been twenty-two years ago.

But a murder was a murder, I told myself regretfully. And if it was true, and Erik had caused started that fire, then according to the details on the website, he was responsible for the deaths of seven innocent people. The thought made me sick. To think that I had actually…

Shuddering slightly at this, I stood up from the computer. There was nothing more I could do now. It would probably be best for me to try and forget about this and not get my hopes up too much. It might take days for this man to reply.

If he replied at all.

* * *

Needless to say, it was hard for me to forget about what I had discovered, and as a result it grew even more difficult for me to hide the growing evidence of my distress. I was jumpyand distant andmy emotional state was beginning toaffect my physical well-being as well.Meg pointed out the next day that I was not eating, and I realised that this was true. Staring guiltily down at my chicken pie, I mumbled that I wasn't feeling very hungry. I didn't miss Meg's hurt expression, but I tried to steel myself against it. I couldn't let myself feel too guilty about lying to her… otherwise I would end up telling her everything, and that would only make matters worse. 

Worse? That was a laugh. How could things possibly get worse?

Well they were about to. Meg, hurt, confused and frustrated by my miserable and evasive behaviour, finally reached the end of her tether and all but dragged me into her room, pushing me into chair and standing over me like some overbearing schoolmistress. Under any other circumstances I might have found this amusing, but not now.

"Alright… I'm sick of this," she snapped angrily down at me. I winced and my guilt pangs only grew sharper and more painful. "We're supposed to be best friends… you know what best friends do? They _talk_ to each other. They help each other out. Right now there are sheep more willing to talk than you are!"

This small amount of humour was enough to bring a slight smile to my face, but it was gone all too quickly as Meg knelt down by the chair and nudged my leg with her fist.

"Come on… I don't like seeing you this way. Do you realise how worrying it is? And I'm starting to get paranoid about it." She tilted her head at me. "Should I be?"

I stared back at her, anxiously chewing on the inside of my lip. The drawbacks of telling her everything far outweighed the benefits, and I was still concerned for her safety. Even if it meant losing her friendship… I didn't want Erik to hurt her, if things ever got that bad. Worrying about my family and Richard was bad enough. AT least I could keep Meg safe.

"You don't need to worry Meg," I told her as calmly as possible, fighting the guilt. When she gave me a sceptical look I shrugged slightly. "I'm just going through some weird stuff right now."

"So tell me about it," she insisted, tugging at my arm like a little child. "Get it off your chest."

"Well, you already know about it," I pointed out, taking shelter in the half-truth that lay in this statement. But my point seemed lost on Meg for a few moments and, sighing, I went on. "You… you remember the guy I told you about."

Another few seconds of confusion before the look of realisation spread across my friend's pretty features. "Oh… you mean _him_?"

"Yes, 'him'," I said, without much enthusiasm.

Suddenly Meg was literally buzzing with excitement, her gossip-queen side emerging right on queue. She pestered me for details, and I trod very carefully around the truth, telling only parts of the story, never allowing her to glimpse the darker side of the evens which took place over the holidays, and twisting things to make my dilemma into something a little more… 'normal'.

"So now you can't decide who you like better?" Meg asked.

"It's not like that," I told her wearily. "I mean… I like them both, only in different ways. Richard is just sweet and normal."

"But your Italian hunk is dark and mysterious?" she asked with a sly grin.

"You have no idea," I said wearily.

There was a silence while Meg contemplated my situation. I supposed, in a way, it was good to talk with her in this way because, whether I liked it or not, this was becoming a dilemma in itself. I did care for both Richard and Erik… but they seemed to be polar opposites in almost every respect, just like Meg had pointed out. With Richard I felt security… not the kind I had begun to feel with Erik, but a simple feeling of comfort and stability. Erik had given me security in the way that he would defend me from anything that might threaten me (something which seemed so ironic now). But what he really offered was that excitement… that thrill…

I slumped forward in the chair with my head in my hands. Wasn't it enough to love just one person and be loved by just one? Why did I have to have two?

"What are you going to do?" Meg asked.

"I don't know," I said, truly exasperated. "I hate to think this might all come down to a choice. What if…"

"You choose the wrong one?"

Actually, I had been about to say, what if I chose a Richard and, in retaliation, Erik killed him? That didn't seem like much of a choice to me. But I held back this comment and stared at Meg, waiting for some words of wisdom. But for the moment she too seemed at a loss of what to say.

"I mean… how long have you known this other guy? Not as long as Richard, right?"

"Richard and I grew up together… that's not the same thing."

"I guess not," she agreed, going back to her thoughts. "But you had feelings for this guy when you were going out with Richard… and now it's like you're not sure anymore. What made you change your mind?"

Oh, I'd been dreading this line of questioning. I just knew it would lead to Meg uncovering what had happened between me and Erik during the holiday. She was infuriatingly good at finding scandal. It was like a sixth sense.

"Just… when we were together…" I began, fighting the heat and colour that was quickly rising to my cheeks.

"Yeah… what happened when you two were together?" Here her face took on an expression of great curiosity. It only made my embarrassment intensify and before I had the chance to fumble a response Meg had seen and, worse, understood, what my discomfiture meant. "Oh Chris…"

"Meg, don't," I begged desperately, not wanting to hear her say it.

"Did you sleep with him?"

My whole body convulsed. No one knew of that event, save Erik and myself. Admitting it aloud to Meg made me want o throw up, but at the same time I didn't have the heart to deny my actions. So instead I returned my head to my hands, hiding away from the look of shock on my friend's face.

My silence was enough of an answer for her.

"Bloody hell…"

"I know," I mumbled into my palms, really not needing her to go into a rant about how irresponsible and stupid I had been. "I know…"

"Christine, do you realise… Oh god… I mean… did you use protection?"

My head jerked up in indignant horror. "Are you crazy? Of course we did?"

"Are you on the pill?"

I faltered. "Well… no, but… we did use a… you know…" My embarrassment returned with a vengeance. I had been too embarrassed to use the word in front of Erik too. He had chuckled slightly in the darkness and reassured me gently that "it would be alright". At the time, I had just assumed it meant he knew what he was doing.

"Well… that's no guarantee," she said. "What if it broke or something?"

That was more than I needed to hear. I think I must have scared Meg with the look I gave her and the way I all but screamed at her to shut up. But truly… with everything else I had to deal with… the prospect of something going wrong with the contraception… and of me possibly being pregnant with Erik's child…

"Sorry," Meg said, rushing to my said and putting an arm around my shaking shoulders. "I didn't mean to get you all worked up… I'm just worried."

"_You're_ worried?"

"I know… I'm sorry. But, I mean… when are you next due?"

"What?"

"Your period?" she prompted urgently. "When are you due?"

Still fighting to keep my breathing in check and suppress my violent sobbing, I contemplated Meg's question. "I don't know… in a week, maybe?"

"Have you been feeling sick?"

"No." Well, that wasn't strictly true. Ever since coming back to England I had been so worried and upset by what was happening, or what might happen, that I had felt almost constantly sick. But I hadn't been throwing up or anything like that.

Oh god… but what if? The idea was implanted in my head now and I felt my hands going instinctively to my stomach as I imagined a tiny baby growing inside there. Erik's baby…

"Oh god, I'm sorry, Chris… I really didn't mean to…"

"No, no, it's okay," I insisted breathlessly, rubbing at my eyes to try and staunch the fresh tears threatening to fall. "I just can't get it out of my head now…"

"Well we could go and get you a test," Meg said, squeezing me gently. "I mean… like I said, condoms are no guarantee… but if you use them properly it's fine. Honestly."

"Nice of you to tell me that now," I said bitterly.

"Look… next time I'm in town I'll get you one and you can try it. I'll go this weekend and I promise you it'll be fine, okay?" She gave me another squeeze and I smiled half-heartedly, not wanting to make things any worse by telling her just how upset she had made me. Even when I left her room, after her numerous reassurances, I was still buzzing with paranoia, and kept thinking that something was moving about inside me… almost like some kind of parasite. Somehow, even the possibility of having Erik's child filled me with terror. I wasn't ready for a child… and what kind of effect would one have on my life? It would ruin everything… school... probably my future…My whole life was going to the dogs, and there was nothing I could do except sit back and watch. What good was that going to do me?

Back in my room this thought got me so worked up I kicked the side of my desk and nearly burst into frustrated tears. God, I hated Erik! I hated him! How could he do this to me? Why did he have to come into my life? Why? Why?

I kicked the desk again at every question until finally I collapsed in the chair and began to sob into my two hands.

I didn't hate him. That was the most ridiculously unfair part. Somehow, I couldn't find it in my heart to truly hate him. All I felt was overwhelming pity with every new thing I learned of him. Incarceration in a hospital? Being mocked by his fellow inmates? Abused by the people who were mean to care for him? Being branded 'The Living Corpse'. Erik might be monstrous, but it was only because of the horrors he must have endured. No wonder he ran away from that place.

And perhaps he came back to make sure no one else would suffer the same horrors. Or maybe just out of a selfish desire to avenge himself. Miserably, I realised how well that would suit Erik's rather twisted sense of justice.

I reached up to my neck and rubbed the bruising there. Much like he considered it 'just' to punish me for removing his mask, I thought to myself, sadly. No matter how many times I went over it in my head, I could not believe he had gone so far as to nearly choke me… to threaten me. Was it such a terrible misdeed… to remove his mask… to see his face? Well, perhaps, if you considered all the pain it had caused him in his life already…

And what kind of pain would a child of Erik's have to go through? I thought, my hands wrapping around my abdomen once again. What if the baby were born with the same deformity as Erik? Twenty years ago there wouldn't really have been tabloid newspapers to seize upon the story… but now…

I hung my head again. Perhaps I was worrying unduly… this 'baby' might only be a figment of my imagination… a construct of paranoia. Even I knew that contraception was effective most of the time. It was only the smallest chance that I might actually be pregnant, if we had used it properly.

But had we? It had been dark… I couldn't see a thing. How could I be certain of anything?

That night I worked myself into such a frenzy that I ended up running to the bathroom and throwing up violently. Afterwards, when my stomach finally settled, I spent a good half an hour sitting next to the toilet, sobbing as if the world were about to end… and later, when I finally drifted into sleep, my dreams made me wish it would.

* * *

Author's Note: I was a bit concerned about the realism of this chapter, but given the nature of the internet these days I hope it doesn't seem to unbelievable. Also a note about the contraception paranoia... I've been wanting to put somthing like this in, especially when people began wondering whether Erik and Christine used any protection. Because things do go wrong... and, well, we'll have to see how it turns out.Oh, and I'm glad people are warming up to Richard just a little...that was the idea of the last chapter but, as we can tell, it's not really helping Christine much.

Please tell me how you think things are going. Your reviews are a real help... seriously. And keep poking me to update... I'm getting so slack. Thanks guys!


	25. Chapter 24

Good grief! I hadn't expected such an onslaught of pokes after the last chapter. Scary... but it appears to be working. Here's the next chapter. Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 24

I grew more and more restless and uneasy as the days crawled by. Both Meg and Richard seemed to be treading carefully around me, like I would break under even the slightest amount of extra pressure. Not that this wasn't essentially true. Particularly after my conversation with Meg.

No matter how many times she said it had only been a silly, childish comment, and that it didn't really mean anything, it had been like throwing petrol on a burning fire. My paranoia had simply exploded, and now every stomach twinge was attributed to my being pregnant. It certainly hadn't helped my state of mind and the weekend seemed such a long way away. It would be such a relief to get a test done and leave at least one problem behind.

… or have to deal with a much bigger one.

And one constant worry was my lack of contact with Erik. I had not seen or spoken to him since returning to England, but I felt no more relaxed because of it. I think it would have been more reassuring to know where he was… and at least have some vague idea of what he was doing, even if it was only watching me. Did he know what I had done? And if he did… what terrible things might he be plotting for me, wherever he was? God only knew… if he was capable of returning to the place where he was raised and setting it alight, killing seven people in the process.

I went back to that website several times over the next few days, reading over the stories again and again until every single detail was branded into my brain. There was still no response from the doctor, and I began to despair of ever hearing from him. Perhaps it simply wasn't the policy of the hospital to pass on weird messages to former employees. It had been a long shot anyway.

On the Friday evening I was feeling no better physically, mentally or emotionally. Even my friends couldn't make me feel any better. Richard tried, in some small way, to comfort me, but I was reluctant to let him get too close now, because of the danger it might put him in.

"I don't care," he said with remarkable calm. "I'm in danger whatever I do, so I might as well make you feel a little better. Besides… you said yourself we're just friends."

That was true… I had said. But now, after telling him about Erik and my situation, I was less sure of how I wanted things to be. And I was afraid that Erik might pick up on it, if he saw us… or that I might not be able to control myself and end up just falling into Richard's arms.

"No," I replied as sternly as I could. "I just… I need to get through this."

"You can't… not by yourself."

"I know… I know. But if I start breaking down every few minutes I'm going to turn into a wet, damsel in distress type." I forced a brave smile on my face, and he returned it a little.

"Can't have that," he remarked before turning serious once more. "But you know I'm right here if you need me don't you."

He put his hand on my shoulder, and I swallowed hard, unable to stop the comparison between his warmth and Erik's cold touch. When I didn't push him away he slipped his entire arm around my shoulders and gave me a slight squeeze. I allowed him, feeling as though I deserved this after all that had happened. Obviously, Richard didn't know some of the more personal details… I could never pluck up the courage to tell him that I had slept with Erik, and had made Meg swear on her life to not say a word… and all I could hope for was that circumstances would never come about where he would know the truth, and the full extent of my betrayal.

Betrayal? So now I had been betraying Richard? Well… maybe I had in the beginning, allowing myself to be with Erik when we were still going out. And even if we hadn't been together when I had slept with Erik, somehow my brain refused to let the matter rest. The feelings stirring inside me made it feel like I had betrayed him.

_Well_, I thought bitterly to myself, _I had betrayed just about everyone else. Just add one more to the ever growing list_.

"I'm scared," I said, in a distinctly flat tone.

"I don't blame you," Richard replied.

"I haven't heard from Erik in so long," I told him, biting my lip with nervousness. "I should have heard from him by now."

"Maybe he's still back in Rome?"

I shook my head. "Even if he was, he'd have contacted me. Something's wrong… I can feel it."

"You don't know that for sure," Richard said, trying to be reassuring in the face of my rather bleak pessimism.

"But I just…"

"Stop it," Richard's voice interrupted me, sounding almost angry. I looked up at him, disbelieving. "You're not doing yourself any good… you have to try and stop worrying all the time."

"Easy for you to say," I said with a slight smile.

But he pushed on, serious now. "Really… you've got to try and calm down. Give it time. We'll think of something, I promise."

I stared at him for a few moments, hardly able to believe the warm comfort he was giving me, after all that had happened. "Why are you doing this?" I asked miserably. "After everything I've done… why do you still want to help me?"

There was a long moment of silence, and as I watched his expression, I dreaded what Richard would say in response to my question. But I watched his lips part, and I knew it was too late to take it back and pretend I had said nothing.

"Because," he said, slowly and carefully, "… I love you."

His soft brown eyes gazed down at me, filled with an emotion that only increased my feelings of sadness. That care and concern… it almost reminded me of the way Erik had once looked at me. In fact, sitting in this music room, side by side on the piano bench, I was reminded of the time I had met Erik in the Assembly Hall… how he had been so concerned for my health after being out in the rain… how he had been thoughtful enough to lend me his coat for the extra warmth…

Mournfully, I reached up and rubbed my fingers around my neck. The marks there were fading quickly now, but I was sure that even when they faded I would still feel them… as though Erik's icy, merciless fingers would always be closed around my throat… ready to choke me…

My reflection almost broke the moment of Richard's confession, but I snapped myself out of it as quickly as I could, shaking my head slowly.

"Richard…"

"I know," he interrupted. "I know… and it's okay. I'm not asking you for anything in return…"

"Richard… it's not that," I said, nearly heart-broken by the resigned expression on his handsome face. "You just… you know how dangerous this is."

"And I told you," he said forcefully, removing his arm from my shoulders and taking my face in his two hands. "I don't care."

He was so close I could feel his warmth breath on my face. The intimacy of it sent a shiver through me that Richard almost mistook for fear and he began to pull away. Just as his hands began slipping away from my face I gripped his arms and before I could even think about the consequences, pulled myself against him in a tight hug… so tight I was almost worried I might crack one of his ribs. After a few seconds of feeling nothing, he put his arms around me too and held me back gently, cradling me as I cried quietly against his shoulder.

Eventually we had to pull away from each other, since our bodies were twisted so awkwardly on the piano stool. The moment he saw the tears on my cheeks Richard began brushing them aside and my breathing shuddered in my lungs. This was so dangerous… too dangerous… what if…

And then he kissed me.

* * *

I was a bundle of mixed emotions by the time I got back to my room. My mouth was still tingling from where Richard had kissed me, and I was still unsure of exactly how to feel about it. Good? Bad? Worried? Well… certainly the latter.

Sitting in my chair, I wearily banged my head on my desk as a kind of punishment for my stupidity. Why? Why had I let Richard kiss me? More importantly… why hadn't I pushed him away instantly? If Erik had seen… if he ever found out…. Why the hell was I putting Richard at risk? Come to think of it… I might be putting myself at risk too. If Erik were angry enough, who knew what he might do in retaliation?

I was such an idiot. How could I be so unbelievably stupid?

I continued to bang my head, frustrated with myself and my life.

Stupid… _bang… _stupid… _bang…_ stupid…

I jumped suddenly as my phone sprang to life with a loud ringing right next to my ear. It took a few seconds for me to clear my head enough to risk answering it. If it was Erik on the other end, I needed to be clear-minded… I couldn't let him in on the fact that something was wrong. But still, as I reached out and picked the phone up off the desk, I dreaded the conversation about to take place.

I pushed the button and lifted the phone to my ear.

"Hello?"

"Excuse-moi? Mademoiselle Day?"

For a few seconds I went completely blank. Who was calling me? And talking to me in French? Then my memory caught up with me and, far from having too little air, I suddenly felt as though my lungs were going to burst with it.

"Monsieur Debienne?" I asked warily. You wanted to speak with me

"Oui, Madmoiselle. Voulez-vous parler avec moi?"

I faltered. It had been a long time, nearly two years, since I had last taken a French class, or even spoken the language, and this man spoke so quickly I was barely certain of what I heard. Finally I collected my thoughts together enough to remember what little French I knew.

"Parlez-vous anglais, Monsieur?"

There was a pause at the other end of the phone, and for a second I thought the man had hung up. Biting my lip, I waited to hear some reply… any reply.

"Yes, mademoiselle," he said at length, speaking very slowly and carefully, the French accent making it a little difficult to understand his words. "Pardon… I did not know you were English."

"Sorry, Monsieur," I said, taking care also to speak slowly, for his benefit. My stomach felt all squirmy with nerves and I stood up, pacing the room, wondering how this conversation was going to go. "I am… very happy you called me." Well, 'happy' wasn't exactly the word to use, but it was all I could think of to say at this point.

"Yes… your e-mail was very… interesting. I was surprised to read it."

Swallowing hard, and I readied myself for the big question. "So… you do know Erik?"

At the other end of the phone there was a long and weary sigh. "Oui, mademoiselle… I know him. But… you know him also? I do not understand… how?"

"It's a long story," I said feeling constricted all through my body, as if I was wrapped in tight bandages, like an Egyptian mummy. The last thing I needed to talk about now was what had happened between me and Erik. It had been hard enough telling Richard. "I… I need to ask you about him."

"Yes… please ask. I will help."

"You were at the hospital when he was there, weren't you?"

"Ah, oui… it was a terrible place for him."

"Why?"

Another sigh down the phone. "You know him, mademoiselle? You know his… his face?"

In spite of myself I shuddered… not at the memory of Erik's face but at remembering what had happened after I saw it. I barely managed to whisper a yes in reply to the doctor's question, and he must have mistaken my hushed tone for breathless disgust.

"Oui… the poor boy."

I agreed with that, certainly, and picked up instantly the regret in the man's voice. I guessed that, during his time at the hospital, he had cared about Erik. It was so strange to actually think about that… to talk to this man who had known Erik.

But did he know what Erik was capable of?

"His life is hard…" the man went on quietly down the phone. "It makes him hard too."

Well, I could certainly understand that. I'd seen the proof of it myself… I saw it every time I looked at my neck in the mirror. My hand almost moved to touch the bruises there, but I willed it to remain on my desk, the palm hot and sticky with sweat.

"Tell me about what happened to him," I asked in a rush. At the silence from the man at the other end I repeated the question for slowly, and waited as he thought it over, perhaps wondering where to begin, or simply trying to find the right words in English. When he did speak, his words were a little disjointed, but I understood well enough.

"Erik… he come to us when he was a baby. His mother bring him to the hospital. She did not understand and it was very difficult for her. They come in 1964… but she died after two days. It was… too difficult. You understand?"

I felt the lump in my throat grow worse. It was not hard to grasp the meaning of the doctor's words. Obviously the horror had been too much for the poor woman, and she had committed suicide. This made me both sad and angry. No matter how Erik looked, what kind of mother would take her own life rather than face the reality of the child she had brought into the world. Disfigured or not, he was still her child, and she left him alone in the hospital to face whatever horrors lurked there. I knew I would never do such a thing… or rather _could_ never do such a thing. Suicide, I realised, would be the ultimate betrayal for Erik… an echo of his mother's rejection… saying that I would rather die than be with him, face him.

I couldn't do that to him.

"After she died…Erik stayed at the hospital. It was very dangerous for him. People wanted to see him… they fear him, hate him. In hospital they fear him too at first. Then they hurt him. When I go to see him, he have many bruises. They all think he is… not intelligent."

"That's ridiculous!" The exclamation was instinctive. The absurdity of the suggestion that Erik was stupid almost made me want to laugh. Who in their right mind would think that of him after looking in those eyes under the mask and seeing that cool, calculating gaze… after hearing him play the piano.

"Yes, mademoiselle. I know this too. But he… pretend. Make everyone think he is not intelligent."

"Why?"

"To… escape. But I hear him sing at night… and he play music. He is very intelligent. I try to say he is intelligent, but no one listen. I was not a doctor yet… they do not listen. They think he is no danger, and he escape. In… 1978… he escape."

1978…dear God, he would only have been fourteen, and fending for himself in a world full of cruelty and misunderstanding. I didn't like to imagine how hard things must have been for him. Given what had happened to him in the hospital, I couldn't blame him for hiding away under the streets, where no one would find him and torture him about the way he was.

"The fire…" I said softly into the phone.

"Ah, yes… the fire." He sounded as though he found it painful to speak of it.

"Was it Erik?" I asked, even though I already knew the answer.

"Yes. I think so. He wanted to hurt people who hurt him. He hated the hospital. First he escape… then he return to start the fire."

For revenge, I thought dismally. It all fell perfectly into place… the events that had taken place. Oh god… how horrible. Poor Erik… and those poor people at the hospital. Even if they had hurt him, did they really deserve to die? No doubt, in Erik's mind, they had. But… oh god, I was torn between pity and disgust. It was so hard to accept what Erik had done… but at the same time, I couldn't hate him for it… for any of it.

The long pause in the conversation required one of us to fill it, and I was so lost in my thoughts I barely caught the question Dr. Debienne put to me.

"What?"

"I do not understand… how do you know Erik? You are his friend?"

I swallowed painfully. "Sort of," I mumbled quietly, fearing the inevitable explanation. With a deep sigh I began to describe, in as simple terms as I could, exactly what had happened between me and Erik. It was difficult, with the language barrier, but we managed, and I could tell, as I went deeper into the story, that the doctor was growing more and more anxious.

"Mon Dieu…" he whispered breathlessly, when I described how I had first seen Erik's face.

"I know…" I said sullenly. I was quite amazed that I had managed to tell the story without breaking down in tears. Maybe I was all cried out by now… all that I felt was an ache, deeply rooted into my heart and stomach. There was another silence, more long and drawn out than the last, as the doctor thought about my actions, and probably the consequences too.

"He doesn't trust me now," I said.

"I am not surprised. If his face make his mother want to die…".

Oh god, of course… no wonder Erik didn't trust me anymore… no wonder he was so angry at my seeing his face. Knowing it had driven his own mother to suicide… what did he imagine it would make me do? I chewed fretfully on a nail, realising at last the full extent of the damage I had done to Erik.

"What can I do?" I asked desperately.

"I do not know," He said in a depressed voice. "I didn't think this would ever happen. Erik it does not like to make friends."

That did not surprise me. Knowing Erik like I did, it sometimes made me wonder why he had made such a concerted effort to work his way into my life. Well, for obvious reasons at first… he had wanted to frighten me into submission… so that I wouldn't dare breathe a word about him to anyone. But at some point it had become more than that. Why?

When I asked the doctor this very question, he seemed equally nonplussed about the situation.

"Perhaps your voice," he suggested thoughtfully. "He love music very much… and if your voice is good..."

That could be it. Given what I had been told, how Erik's sole comfort in that hospital was music, in any form he could get his hands on, it seemed reasonable to assume that this was why he had gained an interest in me. I knew how promising he thought my voice was, he'd told me often enough… helped me improve it… even done terrible things to allow it to be heard by others.

But was that it? It seemed unlikely that it would be the only reason. _A_ reason, certainly, but not the only one. Why else? I tried to think… remembering, with a slight ache, my earliest encounters with Erik. I remembered how he had been so sympathetic about my being forced into coming to Rome, being sent away from my family… it had confused me at the time, since Erik had also been threatening me.

But his reassurance… that day I had walked in on him in my room… reading my diary…

My diary. My most intimate thoughts… spilled out on paper. How much of it had he read? Enough to know how miserable I felt? How I felt my life was out of my control? How constricted I felt? I almost laughed… how childish it must have appeared to him… to read all that silly complaining after all the things he had been through in life. My pain about leaving my family in Rome was nothing compared to the agony of having your mother commit suicide on your account.

Still… had he sympathized with me? Enough to want to watch over me? Take care of and, eventually, fall in love with me? Amidst all the worry and pain of the past week, this idea sent a feeling of such warmth coursing through me I began to smile, a real, genuine smile. If only that were true…

And if only I hadn't ruined it all.

"Mademoiselle?"

I woke myself up from my thoughts to resume my conversation, although I really felt there was little more to be said now.

"Yes?"

"What will you do now?" he asked.

Biting my lip anxiously, I looked towards my window, as if I expected to see Erik's outline somewhere in the shadows. A part of me hoped so… because I suddenly felt the urgent desire to speak to him about all this. Even if he was angry that I had pried into his life… the life he had wanted to forget about, it had awoken in me a new determination to see this through. Even if I still wasn't sure if I could save my relationship with Erik (if there was anything worth saving now), I knew I had to try.

"I'll talk to Erik," I said firmly.

"Mademoiselle…" the man began, worriedly.

I cut him off. "I know… I know he'll be angry. But I don't know what else to do. I can't just sit here and do nothing."

My tone was so firm there seemed to be nothing the doctor could say in response. He sighed and merely said that I should do what I thought was right. Sensing the inevitable goodbye, I thanks him profusely for his help. He waved it aside.

"Please… I want to help, very much."

"You have… thank you."

There was a slight, melancholicpause.

"Goodbye, mademoiselle."

"Goodbye."

I waited to hear the dial tone, and then set the phone down on my desk, staring at it for a good few minutes, lost in thought. Then, wearily, I leant my elbow on the hard surface, and rested the heel of my palm against my forehead. I didn't know whether I felt better or worse for having spoken with the doctor. More enlightened, perhaps… but at the same time I didn't know how things were going to turn out. I'd have to wait and talk to Erik… whenever he decided to reveal himself.

I looked out of my window again, beyond the pale curtains and into the darkness that seemed to stretch on to forever.

"Erik…where are you?" I whispered out to it, as if perhaps the night could give me an answer. And for a horrible, chilling second, as a draught blew inside and sent an icy shiver up my spine, I thought it had.

* * *

Author's Note: I seem to have substituted Erik's presence for information about Erik's past. Interesting though it is, I wish I hadmore opportunity to write Erik, since I love writing him. But I don't want to put him into a chapterwhen he's better off left out, for now at least. A bit likein the Leroux version... I think a lot of it is just waiting forhim to appear.It makes us appreciate him more when we do see him. So, hopefully, Erik will be making a reappearance soon... but it will be as best suits the story.


	26. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

It took a long, long time, for me anyway, for the weekend to arrive. My nerves made me feel worse as the days went by and the sicker I felt, the more worried I became. It was a vicious circle, but at least the end of it was coming. But when it did, I realized I didn't quite have the guts to go out and get this pregnancy test myself. It was like admitting some guilty secret. Meg tried everything to convince me to go, pointing out that if I didn't have the courage to go and get the pregnancy test how what in hell was I going to be able to look at the result?

"It's easy for you," I pointed out rather bitterly in reply. "You're not the one who might actually be pregnant."

"For the thousandth time, you won't to be pregnant, I promise."

I looked at her with a slightly sad expression. "Then why are we getting this test at all?"

"It's just to make sure," she replied, but she could tell I wasn't convinced, and I could see that she was worried too, as much as she tried to hide the fact. In the end she gave in and promised to come back with the test by the evening, giving me a reassuring thumbs-up sign from the window as the bus drove off, heading for the nearest town. I stood and watched until the vehicle was out of sight, thinking. Maybe I should have gone… but I just didn't feel up to it right now. I would much rather stay in and find some other way to pass the time. Maybe I could go and look at that website again…

I smacked my forehead angrily. What would be the point in doing that? It wouldn't be any different from the last time I checked it. There was nothing else I could learn from it. Everything I needed to know I had heard from Debienne, the doctor. I knew it would be best not to contact him again… I had started to feel bad, realising how awful it must have been for him to drag up those memories. Clearly they still disturbed him. I could only imagine how Erik would react when I next spoke to him.

I was still waiting to hear something from him… I was full of nervous anticipation, wondering when he would choose to make himself known. I desperately hoped it would be soon. The quicker I got this out of the way, the quicker that matters would be resolved, for better or worse. The same with this damned pregnancy test… I didn't know precisely how I was going to deal with these problems, if the worst were to befall. I guess that I'd just have to cross that bridge when I came to it.

"Excuse me?"

I kicked a stone sulkily and watched it bounce along the path, my hands shoved deep in my pockets.

"Miss Day?"

Halted by the sound of my name, I turned and, to my surprise, saw a somewhat familiar person approaching me. At first I couldn't place where I knew this man from, until I realised that it was the detective… Detective Neilson. The one investigating Charlotte's poisoning. My back straightened as tension ran through my entire body. Oh god… what did he want?

"Yes?"

"I'm Detective Neilson… we met before…"

"Yes, I remember," I replied, unable to keep the unfriendly, distrustful note out of my voice. All I could think was the he was a danger to Erik… and to Richard, for that matter.

Clearly my hostile tone was not missed by the detective, because he paused a few feet from me with a quizzical expression on his face. "Is everything alright?" he asked with a frown.

I tried to calm myself down. Having a breakdown in front of this detective was not going to help my situation. But I simply couldn't help it. This man, if he continued to poke around and ask questions, could have me or Richard arrested. Erik, at least, was safe in his anonymity. Wasn't I justified in being a little upset?

No way was I going to convince this guy there was nothing wrong, so I took sanctuary in the truth. "I heard that you talked to Richard."

He raised an eyebrow. "Really? Does that worry you?"

"Of course it does," I snapped a little more harshly than was wise. "Is he a suspect now?"

"Clearly you don't think he should be."

I paused. This was dangerous ground. I might defend Richard all I wanted, but the more adamant I seemed about Richard's lack of involvement, the more it might look as though I knew who the _real_ criminal was, and I couldn't afford that.

"I just don't think he's that kind of person," I replied lamely, feeling the colour rise in my cheeks.

"Well, you never know what people can do when they're under stress."

It was my turn to frown now. "Stress?"

"Yes… I heard you two had a fight not too long ago and broke up over it."

My heart, when I heard this, felt like it was being squashed in a merciless grip. "How do you know about that?"

"I spoke to your friend, Meg Grayson."

Meg? The detective had spoken to Meg? She'd never mentioned it. God only knew why… had she been worried about making me angry? Well, I was certainly that. What else had been going on that she hadn't told me? And how much had _she_ told this detective? She knew, in a basic way, about Erik… would she tell what she knew? I dreaded to think what this guy might do with that kind of information.

"And?" I prompted, trying to keep my voice more neutral now.

"Well, she told me about the fight you two had. Apparently you broke up."

"Yeah we did…" I paused for a second, thinking about how this fell in line. "But that was after the concert… I don't see what it has to do with your investigation."

"Well… I was hoping you'd enlighten me as to why this fight took place."

I winced visibly. "I'd rather not," I replied, believing that it wasn't entirely inappropriate for me to be wary of talking about my personal life with a man I barely knew. Obviously, however, he wasn't prepared to be lenient in his questioning.

"It wouldn't have anything to do with this 'friend' you met in Rome, would it?"

Oh god, I could have died when I heard this. I almost wished I would… it might have been a relief. Now the police… the goddamn _police_… knew about my mysterious friend. What kind of danger would this put me in? And my friends? My family?

"It…" For a few seconds I struggled to stop myself from screaming. "It's got nothing to do with that."

Once again that look of scepticism appeared on the detective's face. "Really? Your friend Meg told us you were quite taken with this man from Italy… I got the impression that he had something to do with your break up."

Behind my lips, my teeth ground together. I couldn't really blame Meg… how could I expect her to lie to the police? Richard might do, since he at least understood what was going on, but not Meg. She was too straightforward, for better or worse. She wouldn't see the danger of it. But even still… it made me angry.

"Richard didn't know anything about him," I said. "We broke up because…" I braced myself, "because I didn't like how forward he was being. That's all."

"'Forward?"

"Yes… forward. I just wasn't comfortable with things. Then he invited me to stay with him over the holidays and I said no. He took it a bit too personally."

"Oh really?"

I didn't miss the note of intrigue in the man's voice, and I hastened to stop whatever scenario he was concocting. "It just got blown a little out of proportion. We sorted it out though… we're just friends now."

"But he still has feelings for you?" he asked meaningfully.

I coloured, heat rising in my cheeks, fast and furious. The detective seemed to take note of this, nodding slowly, his tongue between his teeth. There was silence as I waited for him to say whatever it was he intended to say next… to see if he might form some other picture of events from what I had told him. I swore I could hear his brain ticking over the scenario.

"And you didn't think this friend of yours was worth mentioning to us?" he asked.

Well, this at least was and easy question to work around. It involved a lie, but a necessary one and I forced myself to shrug indifferently as I told it. "Not really. It's a bit hard to poison someone when you're on the other side of Europe."

"Indeed," observed the detective with a small smile, that I returned only half-heartedly. He nodded again in a satisfied way which I hoped would herald the end of this conversation. Thankfully, he took a step back, and his tone changed from serious to slightly more jovial. "Well… thank you very much once again, Miss Day. I hope I didn't take up too much of your time."

Forcing a smile, I shook my head. "No problem." It didn't seem fair for me to be so distrustful of this detective. After all, he seemed a reasonable man… and he was just doing a job. Unfortunately, his job put the people I cared about at serious risk… and nothing could make me forget that fact. We exchanged polite nods and then turned away, walking off in opposite directions. I could feel the urge to turn and look over my shoulder become almost overpowering, but I kept my hands in my pockets and my eyes on the ground in front of me.

Oh boy, Meg was going to get an earful when she got back, best friend or not. Well… actually, maybe it would be best not to mention it at all. Over-reacting to her talking to the police might make her worry more about what was going on. And it wasn't as though she had had any malicious intent. Maybe I'd just bring it up casually when she got back, let her know I wasn't angry about it… even though I was a little.

I looked around. It was awfully quiet. Probably everyone had gone into town, or were back in the boarding houses. The sky did look awfully dark, considering the time of day. The threat of rain was imminent… I could almost smell it in the air. God… I hope it wasn't some kind of omen for what might happen tonight, when Meg brought that test back. Reflectively, I placed my hands on my stomach. Was there something growing in there? A new life? A human life?

And what if there was? Worse case scenario… what would I do if I was pregnant? Leave school? Have the baby back home? Or perhaps have an abortion and pretend nothing had happened? In spite of myself, I winced at this last idea. I had always had an aversion to the idea of abortion… nothing to do with religious beliefs or anything… but personally I'd just never really wanted to think about such a thing. Of course, that had been before I had found myself in this position. It's easy to have a dislike of abortion when you're not seventeen and facing the possibility of pregnancy. And what about all the other factors I had to consider? If I didn't have an abortion, I would certainly be expelled from school… and could wave goodbye to all my plans for my future. I'd have to explain where the baby came from too… that wouldn't be easy for anyone… especially Richard.

And Erik… how would he react to it? Did he want children? A family? For all I knew he might be horrified at the idea of me being pregnant with his child, if he worried that the baby would inherit his deformity. And if that was the case, would he force me to give it up? Force me to have an abortion rather than face the possibility of his child going through the same horrors as he had?

It was not a conversation I looked forward to. Mind you, I wasn't overly keen on having to talk to Erik at all about all this. I was going to do it… I had to do it… but I was kidding myself if I thought I could just breeze through my explanation of what I had been up to these past few days.

If he didn't know already, of course.

Sighing, I went back to the house and began, automatically, to busy myself with as many everyday things as I could. Anything from my homework to just washing some clothes, I felt the urge to keep myself moving, not wanting to let my mind rest for a moment in case it began to dwell on the situation and I started breaking up in tears again. Briefly, I contemplated calling Richard and asking him to meet me, but thought better of it. I couldn't afford a repeat of last the other night. There had been too many times in the following days when I felt his urgent and reckless wish to kiss me. My feelings were confused, but not that confused… I couldn't afford to make matters worse between me and Erik.

It would be a great problem though… my feelings. I wasn't sure what was going on inside my heart anymore. Did I really love both Erik and Richard? Would the day come when I had to choose between them? God, I hoped not… what more difficult choice could there be? I didn't want to be with Erik because I was afraid he would hurt my friends if I said no… but at the same time I couldn't escape the fact that I had loved him, and probably still did. And Richard… kind, thoughtful, normal Richard… it was hard to explain how I felt towards him. Did I only love him because he was safe and normal? And did I really want to risk his life just for the chance to be normal?

No… no more thinking about that, I told myself firmly, putting pen to paper and concentrating hard on my homework once again. I poured myself into it, distracting myself from everything else until I heard, late in the afternoon, the sound of people returning to the boarding house. I barely even had the chance to stand up before I heard the sound of hurried footsteps and my door was nearly trample down by Meg. He cheeks were red and she was breathing hard… she must have run all the way from the bus.

"I got it," she said breathlessly, fishing in one of her many bags for a small box, which she held out to me. Her fingers were trembling, but not as much as mine as I took the dreaded thing from her. I forgot all about yelling at her about what she had told the detective as I read, over and over again, the label "Clearblue - Pregnancy Test".

"Well?" Meg prompted, looking ready to burst with anticipation.

After staring at the box another few minutes, I put it on the opposite end of my desk, shaking my head. "I can't do it, Meg. I can't."

"What do you mean, you can't? You've got to!"

"Why?" I shot back miserably.

"Well, if not for anything else, to stop me from worrying so much," she said with a gasping laugh. After waiting a few moments to catch her breath properly, she came and knelt down next to the chair. "Come on, Chris… at least get it out of the way. I told you, it's probably nothing. We jus want to make sure."

I shook my head. "I don't know…"

"Well, if you'd rather wait a week or two and find out another way, it's up to you. But either way, you're going to find out. So get it out of the way… then you can stop worrying about it."

Looking from Meg to the little box I sighed, shook my head, and then smiled a little. "Damn you and your logic," I said to her.

"Not just a pretty face," she said with a wink. "Come on… I'm dying here…"

So I picked up the test, spurred on by Meg's encouragement, and went off to the bathroom.

"Want me to wait outside?" she asked.

"You don't want to come in, do you?" I asked jokingly, and she mimed running away in horror. Well, at least now we could make a joke out of it. At this point I had to; otherwise I would never get through this. So I went into the toilet and locked the door behind me.

"Don't be too long," Meg called to me through the door.

No… I didn't want to make this long and drawn out. I'd get it done and out of the way quickly. So I sat down on the toilet seat and, opening the box, began to follow the instructions given to my. I could barely hold the little plastic strip, my fingers were shaking so much. I actually dropped it when Meg shouted to me from the other side of the door.

"Are you done yet?"

"Hang on," I called back, placing the little strip on the side of the sink, face down. "I have to wait a minute for it to show up properly."

Meg made an impatient noise and banged on the door, shouting at the little strip to hurry up. I wished I could have found it funny but, leaning up against one wall of the toilet, staring at that ominous little strip, nothing seemed funny. Everything had shrunk to the size of that tiny piece of plastic. A plus sign for pregnant, or a minus sign for not pregnant… my stomach quaked at the thought of which it would be.

I waited much longer than the prescribed minute, unable to bring myself to look at the thing. Even Meg had let up joking around in the seriousness of the situation, and instead she spoke softly, encouraging me once again, reassuring.

"It'll be okay… just look. You've got to look now," she told me. "Come on, Chris… please…"

The plastic strip was seized reluctantly between thumb and forefinger, and it felt like the heaviest thing in the world as I lifted it and, very slowly, began to turn it around to look at the other side. I stared for a very long time at the little symbol.

"Chris? Chris? You okay?" asked the worried voice on the other side of the door.

Still shaking, I opened the door, and Meg took a step back, taking in my expression… the look in my eyes. She glanced only briefly at the test in my hand, but my face told her all she needed to know, and she stepped closer to try and hug me.

"Don't," I said, my voice stony as I tried to prevent myself from sobbing right there. I stepped around her, suddenly unable even to look at her.

"Chris…"

"Please… just leave me alone."

"Oh, god, I'm so sorry…"

"Why?" I snapped. "It's not your fault."

I didn't see her flinch, but I knew she had. Guilt welled up, but I didn't know what else to do. Miserably, I went back to my room, refusing to hear her calling me and shutting myself away, the plastic strip clenched in my fist. I looked at the little plus sign, torn between anger and utter despair.

What was I going to do now?

I put my head in my hands. Erik… what was I going to tell him? What would happen now? I shook all over as the weight of questions and possibilities weighed down on my already burdened shoulders and put my head in my hands. I didn't sob, but my tears flowed, dripping down my face and through my fingers…

_What was I going to do now?_

I was jolted out of my crying misery by the infuriating sound of my mobile phone. As I picked it up, I was suddenly seized by the overwhelming desire to throw it against the wall, or crush it under my shoe. I wanted to break every single object in the room, tear it to pieces, beat down the walls… I almost did, but my eye caught sight of the caller ID, flashing Richard's name at me tauntingly. I lowered my hand, breathing harshly.

Richard… how was I ever going to explain this? What would I say?

Shaking, I pressed the button, and lifted the phone up to my ear.

"Hi, Richard."

"Good evening, Mademoiselle."

_It was Erik!_

_

* * *

_

Author's Note: Look who's back! Hope that pleases some people. This chapter... I was quite surprised how depressed I felt while I was writing it... the second part anyway. Poor Christine... I haven't let her have it easy in this fic. I was torn between making her pregnant or letting her off the hook, but this is more dramatic and, well... we'll see what happens with that, won't we. Sorry to leave you on a cliffie (what can I say? I love leaving you in suspense). I'll make it worth your while next week, I promise.


	27. Chapter 26

bows head in shame I've been a very bad authoress these past two weeks, haven't I? Just want you to know, it's not entirely my fault that I didn't update. Basically I just started university, and intro week ate a big chunk out of my writing time... and even if it hadn't I would have had problems, since I only managed to get the internet working properly this morning (I got it all set up and it literally crashed on me (and everyone else) straight away! Phhbtt... stupid thing).

So, sorry to leave you on such a bad cliffie for so long. Please forgive me and enjoy the new chapter.

* * *

Chapter 26

"Have I caught you at a bad time?" Erik asked, his voice perfectly level, as if this were a perfectly ordinary phone call. For a few moments I could only breathe raggedly into the receiver, unable to grasp what was happening. I pulled the phone away… yes, the caller ID said 'Richard' quite plainly. Panic gripped my whole body.

"Erik?"

"Of course," he said, still in that even tone. "Why? Were you expecting someone else?"

"Erik, what's going on?" I asked, terrified by his strange attitude. What was he doing? What was happening?

"I was going to ask you the same thing," he replied, his voice now carrying just a trace of bitterness. "Or perhaps you should ask your darling Richard."

"Where is he?" I blurted out frantically, pressing the mobile hard against my ear.

"I wouldn't worry about that just yet," Erik told me, but this only made me feel more anxious, especially as I noted his use of the words 'just yet'. Oh god… where was Richard? Was he there with Erik? Had he been kidnapped? Was he…

"Is he dead?"

There was a derisive sound from the other end of the phone that chilled me. "Now what on earth would give you that idea?"

I was shaking all over as I listened to Erik's voice, quietly mocking me from wherever he was. It reminded me, sickeningly, of the way he had spoken to me when we first met, when his words had either been taunts or threats. Shivering at the thought of having to deal with him in this way… after everything that had happened and everything I had learned… I tried to think of why he was behaving in this way… why he seemed to have reverted completely to being that cold, bitter man who despised everyone in the world. What had he heard? Or seen?

"Erik… did you…" I couldn't find the right question… I didn't dare ask if he had seen Richard and me together. But, it seemed, I didn't need to ask.

"Do I know what's been happening?" he asked with cynical innocence. "Don't you remember? I like to keep an eye on you…"

He let the significance of this statement sink in slowly, and a lump collected in my throat and stomach, heavier than anything I had felt up till now. He knew everything… he'd been watching the whole time. And what had been going through his head as he watched?

"Oh god, Erik… I'm so – "

"Sorry?" he interrupted. "Yes… I imagined you would be."

The formality in his voice was almost worse than anger. I could sense it building up, like a great tidal wave in the distance. The guilt filling me up inside was almost unbearable and for a while I couldn't speak, my throat seeming to close up every time a word struggled to escape.

"Erik, please…" I managed, finally. "Listen…"

"No," he cut me off once again. "I think it is you that should listen, Mademoiselle."

He was calling me 'Mademoiselle' now. No warm familiarity left anymore, not even an echo of it… as if we were strangers again. But I didn't dare try to speak again in case Erik completely snapped. I didn't know what might happen then… what kind of position I was in… or Richard was in. I couldn't afford to risk igniting that murderous rage I knew Erik possessed. So I listened obediently, shaking from head to foot, as he began to speak again.

"Now… I want you to do exactly as I tell you. Pack a bag… just the essentials. And bring your passport. You'll be needing it."

"Why?" I asked dumbly.

"I'll explain later…"

"Erik, please," I tried again, desperate to get a word in here. The notion of what might happen soon was terrifying… it sounded as though he planned to whisk me away somewhere, carry me off… _kidnap_ me. Maybe I could prevent him taking such extreme measures if only I could explain what was going on. After all… he couldn't possibly know that I was…

I shuddered. "Erik… listen, I need to explain."

"Yes, you do have a lot to explain, don't you," he said, the veneer of formality still covering his bitter anger, but only barely. "But first… do as I say. And then come to the woods."

The woods? Instinctively I looked outside. Dusk was falling, and to the east I could see the deep, unstoppable darkness creeping closer and closer. The thought of facing Erik in such conditions, with both of us in such a fragile state emotionally, was enough to set my whole body shaking violently and chills running under my skin.

"And Richard?" I asked, unable to keep the thought of him from my mind. Was he alright? Was he even still alive? I had to be sure, somehow. "Where is he?" I demanded, trying to strengthen my voice in spite of my fear.

"Oh, of course _he_ will be joining us," Erik said, the anger more prominent suddenly. "But I'd advise you to hurry."

"Erik… don't –"

But I barely even had time to begin another protest before I heard the beep of the dial tone. Erik had hung up.

For a few moments I was incapable of movement, or even much coherent thought. I just sat and stared numbly at the phone in my hand, barely able to grasp what was happening. The ominous way Erik had said Richard would "be joining us"… the fact he was using Richard's phone… oh god, I had never meant for things to be this way. I'd never wanted to endanger lives, my own or anyone else's. But now… what was I going to do?

I stood up and, rushed and almost without thinking, I pulled out my small, overnight bag from the bottom of my wardrobe. After hesitating once again, unsure of whether to obey Erik, I finally decided that it would not be worth the risk to defy him. If he wanted me in exchange for Richard's safety, then I would agree. What else could I possibly do? Richard didn't deserve to die. So I stuffed a few clothes and some essentials into the bag, and rummage in a drawer for my passport. Desperately, I glanced around the room, wondering if there could be anything else for me to take… something that, even in this state, I couldn't bear leaving behind.

My eyes feel upon the little pregnancy test, sitting innocently on my desk, not far from a picture of me, my father, Paula and Joseph. I put the picture in the bag carefully, and then slipped the test into my jacket pocket before finally rushing out the door. It occurred to be, only briefly, to call the police. I might not want Erik to be turned in to the authorities… but I didn't want him to kill Richard or kidnap me either. Was it worth the risk? Shaking my head, I quickly discarded the idea. I'd just have to hope for some other solution, if there was one. Perhaps there was the smallest chance that some kind of peace could be made.

Even as I stepped out into the cold darkness, I doubted this was the case.

I ran in the direction of the woods, not caring, for once, if anyone saw me. I just ran desperately, thinking of Erik and Richard out there somewhere… afraid of one and afraid _for_ the other. My heart was pounding violently as I made my way around the school buildings, ran across the rugby pitch, and climbed over a fence with my bag slung over my shoulder. I was in such a frantic rush I slipped and fell more than once in the long, damp grass. The knees of my jeans were soaked through and I was shivering with cold, my breath coming in clouds. But I still didn't stop until I was right at the edge of the woods, and then I came to a halt. I knew I had to go in, but what I might be facing scared me. I thought about turning back just once… then took the first cautious step onward.

Even though I knew they would be further in, I began calling Erik's name quietly in the semi-darkness. I could only just see where I was going, but the light was fading as I went further in, and as the minutes ticked by. I wished I had a torch.

"Erik?" I called again, even my voice shivering now.

There was the faintest suggestion of sound. At first I thought it was my imagination, or the wind, but I stood still and listened for it.

"Christine?"

"Richard?"

Yes, it was definitely Richard's voice and in spite of the situation I felt a surge of relief. At least he was alive, but as I heard him call my name again, I knew he was scared. I didn't blame him. I was looking in every corner for a sign of Erik, ready to jump out at me. I kept going, constantly on my guard, until I saw something move in front of me, and Richard's voice coming from the same direction.

"Richard…"

"Don't move."

The sound of Erik's voice made me stop dead in my step, and without any warning I was suddenly blinded by a searing light shining directly in my eyes. I covered them with my arm and squinted towards the source. I could only just make out a blurry silhouette, holding what I assumed was a torch pointed directly at me.

"Erik… I can't see…"

Abruptly the shaft of light was moved, and adjusted so that it lit up a small area, letting me see a little better. But when I looked, I almost wished we could be plunged in darkness again. There was Erik, standing calmly with the torch held steadily in his hand, the harsh light reflecting on the white mask, shadowing the eyes so they looked like empty, lifeless sockets. Even though I couldn't see his eyes, I knew he was looking at me intently. I could feel the power… the anger behind that stare.

But I soon became distracted, because close to Erik, no more than two metres from him, was Richard. He stood with his hands by his sides, but something about his whole posture was wrong. He was stiff and shaking… standing up on the balls of his feet. For a second I was confused… because he seemed to be standing about a foot over Erik, even though I knew he must be shorter, even when standing on tiptoe. It was then I realised he was standing on a chair… and that led me to a far more horrifying realisation.

There was a noose around his neck.

I looked from one to the other, back and forth, unable to grasp the situation. Finally my eyes stayed on Erik, who remained perfectly calm and motionless. I expected him to speak… to say something, even if it was only a merciless gloating or a disgusting bribe. But instead he just stood there, the black eye sockets watching me carefully as I took in the situation. I knew how well he could see in the dark… how he could see every expression… the utter horror in my eyes. But it was useless to pretend anything at this point. My hand went to my mouth as I thought I was about to throw up.

"Oh god… Erik…" was all I could muster to begin with.

"What's wrong?" Erik asked, his voice mockingly innocent. "Aren't you happy with the way things are turning out?"

My stomach did another sickening flip. I looked at Richard, who was deathly pale in the light, and staring at me imploringly. God knows what he expected me to do, but, for his sake, I had to do something… say something.

"Are you okay?" I asked stupidly, in spite of the obvious.

But to my surprise, it was Erik who answered for him. "Oh, our friend here," (he used the word 'friend' as though he referred to a plague-carrying rat) "is very excited. He has a rather brilliant idea, don't you?"

Even though he directed the question at Richard, Erik's eyes remained on me, watching every reaction. Richard, for his part, only looked more scared at being addressed by this man who, he now guessed, must be a complete lunatic. He didn't say I word, but his breathing became harsher. I looked at his predicament again. That noose was tight around his neck, and he already had to stand slightly on tiptoe to stop it from strangling him. Even though his hands were loose, he did not reach for it. Perhaps he had been given a warning… or maybe he was simply too afraid. All it would take was for Erik to remove the chair… no one would hear him if he managed to scream… not out here.

"Aren't you going to tell her your plan?" Erik asked, this time actually looking at the poor boy. "You were so excited about it earlier."

"Erik…"

"Don't you want to hear about it?" he asked me now, eyes once more intent on me. I wasn't entirely sure I did at this point. All I wanted was to get Richard out of here alive. But I didn't dare say I didn't want to hear it, and remained silent.

"It was quite brilliant," Erik sneered with blatant cynicism. "He was going to get the two of you transferred to another school… to get away from me. Obviously you'd have hidden somewhere first… missed a year of school perhaps but you'd have caught up eventually, I'm sure. And then you would have been rid of me. The… what was it you called me?" He looked at Richard again. "Psychopath?"

My whole body winced at the word. Insults would hardly improve the situation. I stared at Richard, who looked back helplessly, and I knew that it hadn't been a lie. He had planned all that… to take me somewhere else, far away. God knows how we would have explained the situation. Perhaps he had planned to speak to his parents. And how in hell would it have worked anyway? Erik wasn't that stupid… he would have seen through such a plan instantly. He _had_ seen through it… and whether it had been the last straw, or if he had been planning this horrible scene for much longer, I had no idea.

"Erik…"

"Ironic, really," Erik, said, cutting me off before I could properly begin my sentence. "I had quite a similar thing in mind."

As the meaning of this declaration sank in, I felt as though I were going to collapse and my heart would give way in my chest.

"Erik… you can't do this!" I said, my voice hoarse from breathing in the harsh, cold air around us.

"Why not!" Erik demanded, whatever control he had managed to exert over himself slipping, little by little. "Why not? You would do it to me… betray me… hurt me. In fact, as memory serves, you already have done."

"I didn't mean to!" I cried, aware of how childish my words must sound. "I didn't want this to happen."

"But it is happening… whether you like it or not. A lot of things happen to us that we don't like, Christine. I know that better than anyone."

Shamed by this reminder, I lowered my head, fighting tears. No… there was quite possibly no one in the world who knew more of the world's cruelties than him. In spite of myself I began to feel a little selfish, having been so fixated on my own problems… and then my head snapped up. What was I thinking? I had been thinking of others! I'd been thinking of Richard… and Meg… even Erik. But there had been no way to keep everyone safe… no way to ensure everyone's happiness. But somehow I had ended up with the responsibility for everything…

It wasn't fair.

A bubble of anger… more potent than anything I had felt before, began to rise inside me somewhere. The more I thought about it, the bigger and stronger it grew… and when Erik began to speak again, it threatened to burst.

"Of course… no one cares about me and what _I_ feel about things. No one even knows about me. I'm nothing more than a ghost… a shadow. I'm the thing people want to forget. That, however, is not the same for our friend here, is it." He waved the torch to indicate Richard, whose eyes widened at being spoken of again. "The perfect son… probably the perfect boyfriend… it'll be such a shame when they find him…"

"You can't kill him," I said stiffly. "They'll find you…"

"Oh Christine… surely you know me better than that. And you must remember what's going on here. An investigation? And who's the prime suspect?"

Another gesture towards Richard, and the meaning behind Erik's cryptic words began to make sense to me. Yes… Richard was a suspect in Charlotte's poisoning… but…

"They'll never believe it was him, Erik…" I declared.

"Oh no? And why not? After all, he had every reason to do it. He loved you… he wanted you. But you didn't feel very open towards him, did you… so he decided to do something for you. A little favour. Maybe he didn't realise it would turn you away from him, but it did. And then, when he found out you were interested in someone else… and that he might be caught by the police… that his future was ruined… really…" He looked at the noose around Richard's neck. "What other choice does the boy have?" In the light, I was horrified to see the flicker of a malignant smile on Erik's lips.

Listening to Erik lay it all out, the careful, calculating way he had worked all this out and, even worse… the way I could see this dreadful scenario actually being believed by everyone… it made was too much. The bubble of anger exploded in my chest, rose up my throat, and came out in an outraged cry that made Richard nearly lose his balance.

"How could you!" I screamed at the masked man, taking a daring step closer. "How could you? Wasn't it enough that you messed up my life? You have to ruin everyone else's too? He hasn't done anything wrong! All he wants to do is help me! If you want to punish someone, punish me!"

I felt Erik's anger rising to match mine. "You think you're the one who's being ruined here? Can you even begin to imagine what I've been feeling? Do you even care? Are you that shallow and self-absorbed? I had no idea you were so selfish."

At this, I did the strangest thing. I couldn't help it but… I laughed… laughed at the twisted hypocrisy of Erik's words. "_I'm_ selfish? _Me?_ You're saying that about _me_ when _you're_ the one who's threatening people's lives just because you can't get what you want. Just because you think I don't want to be with you?"

"Why not? It's the truth, isn't it?" he spat back. "You said yourself… I ruined your life. Ruined your poor perfect illusion when you saw my face."

Raising my hands to my own face, I uttered a cry that was half despairing, half outraged. I could hardly believe that, after everything, he still thought it was all about that one thing… that one solitary thing. It was almost laughable, especially considering the reality of how I felt and it made me feel as though the foundations of my entire self had collapsed.

"You're an idiot," I declared in a dead-weight voice that was nothing like my own. "You're so stupid… for thinking that…" A string of other words lined up to be spoken, but they all died before reaching my tongue as a voice inside me whispered… _it's useless… just give up…_

And then I looked up. And for once, Erik looked slightly taken aback. Perhaps it was my words, or the way I spoke them. Maybe he could see the beginnings of surrender in my expression. His head tilted to one side as he looked at me and, even though he tried to maintain the cold, distant tone in his voice, I felt his uncertainty in the air, and seized on it even as he opened his mouth to speak… my last ditch effort to get through to him. Now it was my turn to interrupt. Out of sheer desperation and misery, I blurted out the only thing I could think of to say.

"Erik… I'm pregnant."

* * *

Waaah! She told him! How's he going to react? Wait and see!

On a more serious note... I appreciate the input you've all given, particularly regarding Christine's pregnancy. Yeah... she's having a rough time, and that was actually one of my main arguments for not making her pregnant, because I did want drama, but not too much. However, as the authoress, I'll ask you to trust me on this one, k? We'll see how things turn out in the last chapters (There will be one more, and then probably an epilogue).


	28. Chapter 27

Update ready for your inspection. I told a little lie last time... you'll have another chapter after this one, and then an epilogue, which should round off the story nicely, me thinks. 30 chapters... bloody hell! Anyway, enjoy.

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Chapter 27

Everything seemed to have stopped, including my heart. My outburst seemed to be the herald for the end of the world to begin. Breathing suddenly became the hardest thing in the world as I realised I had risked everything with this revelation… placing myself, and Richard, entirely in the hands of Erik and his reaction. All I could hope was that, whatever this reaction might be, it would not be one of anger. Maybe it was too much to hope for… that he would respond reasonably… but part of me still hoped.

Inside my head, I ticked over so many scenarios I began to feel ill. Erik just stood there, seemingly paralysed for the moment by my words. I wondered what he would do. Would he simply snap and kill Richard and me? And… worst of all… what if he simply laughed? My god… what if this whole thing had been planned by him from the start? Was this pregnancy merely a way to entrap me and keep me with him?

I waited… fearful of the outcome. But Erik was still frozen. My eyes left him only for a moment, to look at Richard, and a surge of guilt went sweeping through me. His face, already pale and glistening with sweat, was twisted into a look of the utmost shock. When he saw that I was looking at him, his expression changed just slightly, imploring me to tell him that it wasn't true… that it was all some desperate ruse to get out of this alive. But I couldn't lie to him, and answered with the barest shaking of my head, and a look of deepest apology. It must have crushed him inside… but as much as I wished to explain myself to him… tell him how sorry I was to hurt him in this way, I couldn't. Not now.

I turned back to Erik.

But there was still no reaction from him. The silence stretched on, and I began to feel compelled to speak. This silence would not lead us anywhere, and I could not handle being stuck in this limbo state. It was like awaiting an execution. So, gathering my courage, I took a step forward.

To my complete shock, Erik took a step back, shying away as if I had just told him I was infected with the plague rather than pregnant with his child.

"Erik…"

Now there was movement. He shook his head at me, disbelieving.

"No…" His voice… the voice that was usually so calm and collected, suddenly sounded like it belonged to a frightened child's.

"Erik…" I tried again, taking another, more cautious step closer. This strange, almost terrified attitude of his was frightening in its own way. Far from being motionless now, his whole body seemed to be animated by his disbelief, and I was afraid of his lashing out, aware of the danger… especially if he knocked Richard off balance.

"No!" he almost shouted. "You're lying. You're lying to me… again." Suddenly his fear and that child-like tone had vanished, to be replaced by the same anger I had been dreading. The hand that held the torch began to shake with it, his whole body tensing, ready to explode with his outrage. Oh god… I could feel his disbelief radiating from him, and I could see where it would lead us. In my head I saw a terrifying image of his underground home, lying in ruins after his angry rampage. Somehow I had to avoid such an outcome.

"Erik, I'm not lying," I said desperately.

But he wasn't even listening anymore, I realised. As I watched, I had the frightening notion that I had driven him completely over the edge with this news, even if he didn't believe it. "How could you… how can you be so cruel? What kind of heartless woman would lie like that? All you want to do is make me feel sorry for you. Take pity on you!" At this, his voice became a roar of outrage. "Well, no one took pity on me! Why should I pity anyone?"

"Erik… I'm not lying… why would I lie about something like this?" I shouted, frantic now at seeing him this way. It reminded me so horribly of when I had removed his mask I was half-tempted to turn and run for my life. "I didn't want this," I went on, pushing such thoughts away… concentrating on the present situation instead.

"No, of course you didn't," he retorted bitterly. "Who in their right mind would want to risk having a child by _me_? God only knows what the pitiful creature might look like."

"Erik, for god's sake," I shouted in reply, hardly able to believe the pettiness of Erik's words. However justified his worry might be; why did he immediately assume that this was why I didn't want a baby by him? "This isn't about what it would look like," I told him forcefully. "This is about what it's going to do to my life…"

"Ruin it?" Erik spat angrily. "Just like I have? Or just like I ruined my mother's?"

The comparison shocked me, taking me completely by surprise until I realised that Erik knew what I had been doing, and understood how much I knew of his past. Realising this I began to feel angry as I remembered exactly what Erik's mother had done… the cruel responsibility she had laid on him when he was only a baby. But I wasn't angry at his mother this time… it was Erik's comparison that enraged me. I was furious that he could even imagine that I was like her.

"I am _not_ your mother, Erik!" I snapped, my anger matching his for once. "Don't you ever say anything like that again! I would never do that to you!"

"No…" he responded with bitter sarcasm. "You would just run away from me. But how is that different?"

Again, I despaired of ever making him understand the reality of how I felt. The most frustrating thing was that I had made so much effort myself to try and understand Erik… trying to put myself in his shoes. It hurt terribly to think that he might not care enough about my feelings to do the same. Somehow I had to make him see the way things were… wake him up from his illusion that everything came down to the way he looked, and his belief that no one would ever accept him after seeing his face.

"Erik… stop it!" I cried out, close to angry sobs now.

"Stop what? You're the one spinning out lies." My god, how could he say such things to me? "I never thought you would stoop so low, Christine… I didn't realise you could be so selfish… and that would lie about something like that…"

The insults… they were more than I could stand. The silence that was meant by Erik to increase my feelings of guilt, even make me confess my supposed lies, only succeeded in filling me with such bitter anger I felt a straining sensation somewhere in my chest. Not saying a word, I pulled from my pocket the little plastic strip… the pregnancy test, and held it up to the light issuing from the torch Erik held.

"You…" I said to Erik, slowly and in as controlled a voice as I could muster, "can believe whatever you want. But this doesn't lie." And I threw the thing at him, as if it could actually hurt him, and by doing so make him see I wasn't lying. He watched it fall to the ground at his feet, and I expected him to reach down and pick it up. I hoped that he would… and see the result and finally realise that I was telling the truth. But he didn't. Instead he glared at it disdainfully.

"Why should I believe it?" he snapped, looking up at me. "After everything… all the lies… the little façade you put on for me… you think I'm going to believe a little sign on a piece of plastic."

"Erik… I'm not saying this just to win you over. I wish I could make you see that," I said, meaning it with all my heart. "And I didn't want this either, okay? And no…" I said forcefully before he could interrupt me. "It's not because I'm scared the baby will look like you. For God's sake… don't you even realise what'll happen to me if I have this baby? I'll have to leave school… I'll have to forget all about going to university and performing on stage. I'd have to give up on my dream! Did you even think about that?"

Clearly he hadn't, because he stood and stared at me, and I was filled with an unnerving sensation. It was as though he were looking at me for the first time… like he finally realised something that had been hidden from him all this time. For one hopeful moment I thought I had beaten my way through to him… that he understood, at last, my reasons for everything…

My eyes went wide. Suddenly Erik was upon me, closing the distance between us in a few quick strides, giving me no time to react before he leapt at me like some prowling jungle cat. My back was pushed up roughly against a tree, rubbing painfully against the bark, and Erik's eyes, burning with murderous anger, were inches from mine as he bent down close to me. His grip on my arms made me cry out in pain, and I was afraid of him once more… afraid to feel that grip around my neck and not be able to breathe again…

"How dare you," he snarled at me like an animal, his grip seeming to grow tighter every second. "How dare you play with my emotions like I'm some kind of toy? What are you trying to do? Make me believe you still love me?"

"Erik… I - " I was cut off by what I had been so afraid of. His hand was on my throat, and I fell silent instantly as I nearly choked on my voice. I gulped air while I still could.

"You don't love me," he said, in a voice so mournful I almost burst into tears. "Even if you did before… there's nothing now. You left me no choice but to do this… I hope you know that. I loved you… and I'd do anything… anything…" He trailed off, his sadness overwhelming him. His head lowered from mine, and his grip loosened as his hands began to tremble and shake. My god… he was crying…

With my one free hand, trembling almost as much as Erik, I reached up and touched his mask, feeling the hardness of it sculpted to his face. In the shadows of the eye sockets, I swore I could see the glistening of his fallen tears. He didn't respond in any way to my touch, and I took this as a sign to speak.

"Erik… you never gave me a chance to explain. All you ever did was hurt me… hurt me and make assumptions… but you never actually asked what it was I felt. Even when I told you, you didn't believe me. Do you even remember what you did to me? You think this is all about your face… it isn't. I loved you… and I trusted you. But then you turned on me. I'm only human, Erik… I don't want to die. And you nearly killed me. Do you even realise that?"

Perhaps he hadn't. It was horrible to think how that whole episode had been out of both our control, like there was something inside him, controlling him. Maybe I would never know exactly what had gone on in his head back then… just like I wasn't sure now. I wasn't even certain if he was listening to me, with his head hanging down… his eyes hidden from me. What I wanted more than anything now was to remove his mask and see his face… anything to begin to understand what he was feeling… convince myself that there was something inside him that I could hold onto… use to bring him back to me.

And that made me realise why I had been so desperate to find out about his past. It hadn't just been about learning more about who he was and why he thought the way he did. It was about finding an explanation for his actions… the one he had never felt able to give me, for one reason or another. Because there had to be an explanation… there must be a reason. I simply refused to believe otherwise.

All along, I had been looking for a reason to forgive him.

"All I ever wanted to do was understand you," I sobbed, unable to staunch my tears any longer. I began to cry softly over Erik's bent head, waiting desperately to hear some reaction. Inside my head, over and over again, my desperate thoughts pleaded with him to understand.

When he raised his head, it was slowly, and I watched his eyes with blurred vision. They seemed empty in the darkness, devoid of emotion, even anger. Maybe he, like me, was tired of everything… of this horrible tragedy that was playing out between us. Who knew… maybe he didn't want to believe me. Perhaps he simply wanted to make me the enemy and justify himself in that way. I couldn't be sure… and so I waited.

"Understand me?" he asked, impassively. "Why would you want to?"

Another sob escaped my throat. "Because I loved you."

"Really?" he asked, his voice still carrying just a hint of disbelief, overshadowed now by some other emotion. "So it wasn't just to get away from me. Isn't that what you were doing snooping through my past? Looking for another reason to leave so you wouldn't feel so bad about it?"

His bitterness, growing with each word, was heart-breaking, but strangely, I felt it rebound off me as if there was a strong wall around my heart that would no longer let it inside. No… I wasn't going to let bitterness and anger ruin things… not this time. I was going to tell the truth and this time I was going to make myself heard. Reaching up once again, I very carefully closed my fingers over the mask and lifted it away from his face, dropping it on the ground without even a second thought or glance. Confronted with his face, I didn't flinch. I didn't even need to suppress the urge to. There was nothing in my heart or head except a deep understanding that filled me up with warmth.

"Actually…" I whispered a little sadly, "I think I was looking for a reason to stay with you."

This time I saw the effect of my words. I saw the wave of sudden understanding hit the poor man before me, and it seemed to shake him all the way to the core. His mouth hung open as he looked at me and, without even thinking about it, I smiled. It hurt… as if I hadn't smiled in years, even though it was only the slightest of smiles. But it felt real and, confronted with it, Erik seemed to lose sight of his anger. His trembling increased as he fought to speak through his crying. I waited… feeling more patient than I had ever felt.

"I'm so sorry…"

Those were the words I had been waiting to hear. Ever since I had removed his mask, and been confronted with that horrific anger of his… I had been anxiously waiting… worried that I would never hear an apology from him. It seemed like such a simple thing… and maybe it didn't change what had happened between us. But, to me, it was the first step towards mending things… to absolution.

And, most importantly, I believed him. Looking at him, his tear-stained face… in no way could I doubt him.

"I know," I whispered to the crying man. "I'm sorry too…it's okay."

I felt the change. It happened all around us… and inside us both. Maybe Erik had been waiting all his life to be forgiven for all the things he believed were his fault, even if they weren't. How hard must it have been, after putting up all those defences around himself, to say he was sorry… admit that he was in the wrong. And he was… but I could understand why he had done all this. And saying 'sorry' made such a difference to me.

Leaning forward, I rested my forehead against his. His skin was cold, and mine was clammy with sweat, but it didn't matter. I just felt the need to be close to him without experiencing that fear which had been haunting me. He was shaking so badly that this simple contact sent tremors up through my body. But I didn't pull away. I felt the beginning of such relief… but there was still so much more I wanted to say to him…

There was a sudden loud snap behind Erik… the sound of a twig breaking under someone's show. Even in his state he reacted like a wild animal and turned. I felt the scream of protest rise up in my throat as I saw Richard's shape. I had almost forgotten his presence here, and neither me nor Erik had noticed him slip out of the noose. But I saw him now… saw the quick, sharp, sweeping motion as he swung something at the two of us. It missed me, but I heard a sickening sound as it connected with the side of Erik's head. My back pressed painfully against the tree as I watched Erik fall to one side.

I was about to reach out to help him up, terrified that he was badly hurt… that he might die from some serious head wound, but my arms were seized by Richard, who had now dropped the tree branch. Desperately he tried to drag me off into the woods.

"Come on!" he shouted frantically, pulling at my arms and finally wrapping an arm around my shoulders. "Come on, let's go!"

But I barely heard him. I was looking over my shoulder, trying to make out Erik's form in the darkness as we ran, leaving him far behind and plunging deeper into the woods.

* * *

Ah... I can imagine people hating Richard for this. Please don't though, he had his reasons. I wouldn't want to be strung up in a woods somewhere either. And as for Erik, well, I just hope I handled his reaction in a believable way. In fact... I hope I handled the entire chapter in a believable way. I didn't want to drift into cliches (although I probably did in places) but I'll leave it up to you guys to tell me if I went wrong... so please do. It is a bit of a cliffie again... yes I am evil for doing it AGAIN, but it is the last few chapters. There's a lot of drama... so cliffies are kind of unavoidable. See you again soon! 


	29. Chapter 28

You've all been very patient with me on this latest chapter. Thanks for that. I certainly hope it's worth the wait. I feel very sad... only the epilogue to go now. It'll be weird not having to write this fic anymore.

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Chapter 28

We ran, the cold branches of trees and bushes swiping at our faces as we plunged through, trying to reach the edge of the woods. I had the horrible sensation that I was being punished for running, and I sobbed dryly as Richard half carried me out of the woods and towards the school. I wasn't sure why I wasn't fighting this. I felt numb… from shock at what Richard had just done… disbelief that Erik and I had finally begun to reconcile…

Erik… oh god. Just when things had seemed on the verge of being fully mended between us, he had been knocked down, and now I was running. And I was suddenly filled with shame at what I was doing. Was he alright? Was he even alive? How could I leave him out there?

When we were within a hundred yards of the school my body finally listened to what my desperate brain was telling it to do. Richard stopped, surprised, when I pulled myself violently out of his grip and made a move to turn around and head back to the woods. At first he tried to grab my arms, forcing me to go further on in the direction of theschool, but I stubbornly resisted.

"Christine, come on," he said desperately, tugging at my sleeves like a child. "Come on… we've got to get back!"

"No," I said, my throat feeling dry and hoarse from my sobbing and the harsh, cold air. "No… Richard… I can't…"

"Yes you can," he insisted, still trying to pull me away. I kept my eyes fixed on the woods, unable to keep the image of Erik's fallen body out of my mind. Richard continued to try and convince me, and I only half listened. "Come on… we'll get back and we'll call the police. You'll be safe, I promise… we've just got to get back."

"Richard, no… I can't leave him…"

With this, my arms were seized, and Richard turned me round to look at him. I didn't fail to notice the red mark around his neck from the rope, and I actually sobbed at seeing it. But it did nothing to break my resolve. My conscience would not allow me to willingly leave Erik in that woods, alone, with whatever injury he might have.

"Christine… you can't go back. Do you even realise what just happened? He was going to kill me!"

Yes, I realised it… and it wasn't that I didn't care about that. But Richard was safe now, and I was sure Erik would not hurt him… _could_ not hurt him.

Desperately, I tried to explain. "I know… but I can't just leave him…"

"Yes you can. Please, Christine… leave it… we can forget about this whole thing now."

I shook my head. "No, I won't forget it. I'll never forgive myself if I leave him… and I'm not going to the police."

"Are you crazy?" he shouted, unable to believe what I was saying. I supposed, to him, it must have seemed that way. But he didn't understand… he didn't feel what I felt inside. Maybe it was insane for me to care about Erik, especially after everything he had put me through. But I was far beyond listening to reason. Every part of me was screaming to go back, and I couldn't ignore it, even asRichard tried to reason with me. "Listen… I know you'll feel bad about turning him in… but we have to. He's dangerous, you can see that, can't you?"

"It's not just that," I said, shaking my head, and once more pulling back and away from him. "I want to go back… not just because I don't want to feel guilty about it. I have to go back…" I took a deep shuddering breath,"and I _want_ to."

That silenced Richard, and in spite of myself, I felt the surge of guilt as I saw the pain I had caused him. Apologies failed me as I stared at him, imploring him to just let me go… to understand. Suddenly, without thinking, I put my arms aroundhim and held tightly onto this young man, who truly did mean a great deal to me. I wasn't sobbing anymore, but I did feel an incredible sadness in my heart at what I must do to my most precious childhood friend.

"I don't want you to go back to him," Richard said, his arms suddenly holding me in a grip that was almost painful. But his voice was full of tears, and I held him back just as tightly.

"I know," I whispered gently. "I'm so sorry…"

There was a pause before he next spoke. "So it is true, isn't it. You are…" He trailed off, but I knew exactly what he meant to ask. It touched me that, even after what had just happened, he had still hoped that it had all been a lie. He still wanted to believe in me and that I hadn't done such a thing.

I didn't lie. In a way, I suppose, I wanted him to hate me for it. It might have made things easier. Especially for him. "Yeah, it's true. I'm so sorry… I didn't mean for you to find out that way. I only found out about it tonight."

"Did he…"

"No," I said firmly, pulling away and cutting off his train of thought with a look. "No… it was an accident. Neither of us meant for it to happen."

He nodded, but I could still see that imploring look in his eyes… the uncertainty of whether to let me go or forcibly take me back. It was good to think that he at least had my best interests at heart, he was just uncertain of in which direction they lay.

Finally he shook his head. "No… I can't let you do this…"

"Richard… please you have to."

"No! Why should I do anything to help _him_?" he snapped, suddenly angry and bitter. "He was going to kill me. I was going to take the blame for what he did! Why the hell would I let you go back to him?"

"Because he's changed," I replied simply.

Richard scoffed. "What, just like that? One second he's evil incarnate and then BAM he's the innocent victim?"

"That's not what I meant," I told him, refusing to rise up against this angry bitterness. For some reason now I felt like a mother responding to a child's tantrum… that calm benevolence that loved in spite of every obstacle. "I know I can help him."

"I won't let you do this!"

I gripped his arms now, shaking him just a little, as if trying to wake him up from a dream. "You have to let me do this. Because…. I'll never forgive you if you don't."

He seemed shocked by this statement, but it was undeniably true, even if saying it aloud had been a little harsh. But, just like I would never forgive myself if I didn't go back, I knew I would not forgive Richard if he stopped me. It was as simple as that, and no amount of reasoning would change it. But, as I saw his devastated expression, I relented a little and added, gently:

"I would never have forgiven Erik if he'd killed you."

Again, Richard looked at me, thinking over this statement, unsure this time of whether to believe it. Managing to smile, I reached up and placed one hand on the side of his face. "I know you might not believe me, but… I do love you. I really do. It's just…" I couldn't find a way to explain it, and maybe there was no way to… so I gave a tiny, helpless shrug, as if to say the matter was out of my control, which was true in a way. No one controlled who they fell in love with... and I couldn't control the fact that my need to go back to Erik was stronger than what I felt for Richard. There was nothing for me to do but face up to it.

I think he understood, or if he didn't he, like me, resigned to accept it, however unwilling. Slowly he nodded, before saying, in a cheerless tone, "I'm never going to see you again, am I?" His voice cracked as he finished the question.

Even though I thought this was a strong possibility, I could only shrug. After all, you never know. Maybe, one day, I'd see him again, but it would never be the same. We'd never have that innocent friendship we'd had as children, no matter how much I might long for it. And any meeting in the future would no doubt be tainted by the memories of what had happened here. So… perhaps it was better that way. I didn't want to ruin my pleasanter memories of Richard any further.

Very softly, I kissed his cheek, and then turned to go. But I hadn't got more than a few paces away when he called out my name, and I turned back.

"What am I going to tell them?" he asked. "They'll ask about you… the police… and Meg… and everyone else."

Right then, I was fully prepared to tell him that I didn't care in the least about what he told anyone… my thoughts were too engrossed with Erik and going back to help him. But I paused, thinking quietly…

"I don't know," I said finally. "Just… tell Meg I love her and I'll contact her when I can."

"And the police?"

"I don't really care anymore," I said, with a small laugh. "Just tell them you don't know where I am…it'll be true enough."

Even Richard managed a small, but sad, smile. This was it… and even though I wanted to go to Erik, it was incredibly hard to say goodbye. It felt like I was saying goodbye not just to Richard but to my entire life, as I had once known it. It might be difficult, but I was still prepared to do it.

"Bye."

"Bye."

And with only a final look over my shoulder at the figure of Richard, I turned and began to run back in the direction we had just come, moving as fast as I could and not even pausing as I plunged headlong into the woods. I only slowed down a little further in, since I was afraid of walking past the place Erik had been and missing him.

As I walked, I suddenly began to wonder… what would happen when I found Erik? Not just wondering about where we would go, but what my disappearance would do to my family. I would have to make sure to contact them so they knew I was alright. And school… and my future… what would happen there? It occurred to me, only now, that I was giving up a lot to do this. The police would probably take it as a sign of guilt that I had run off for one thing… not to mention school and…

I shook my head. For better or worse… I had to do this.

"Erik?" I called out his name quietly, picking my way carefully through the undergrowth. I hoped he had not moved away, or worse that he was now angrier than before. Could Richard's actions have undone everything I had managed to achieve tonight? God, I hoped not.

I was beginning to panic. Where was he? Why wouldn't he answer me? Was he dead? Almost frantic with worry I began to wonder aimlessly back and forth, not caring which direction I went in anymore, almost screaming Erik's name as I searched. My panic grew into hysteria until my heart was pounding in my mouth and I was ready to drop down from exhaustion.

I turned… and my breath caught in my throat. I could see a light… a beam of bright light. At first I thought Richard had called the police and they had come out looking for me and Erik, until I realised the light was lying on the ground, and wasn't moving around as though being held by someone. It was the torch Erik had dropped! Quickly I ran in its direction, and fumbled with it before turning it in every direction, desperately searching.

"Erik?"

Finally, in the beam of the torch, I saw a long, thin pile of black material. I didn't need to think twice about what it was. Within seconds I was kneeling beside Erik's body, trying worriedly to turn him onto his back. When I finally got his head to rest in my lap, I moaned as I saw the blood plastered against the side of his face. A part of me seethed with anger at Richard for doing this, but I reasoned that he had only done it because he wanted to help me, in the panic of trying to escape.

But Erik…

Biting my lip, I reached one hand down, and placed it against his chest, praying for the sensation of a heartbeat under my palm. For a few, horrifying seconds, I thought there was none, until a little flutter moved. My own heart leapt with relief and I gripped the black material of his coat, willing him to wake up.

"Erik?"

It was a few, agonising minutes before there was even the slightest reaction. Finally there was a slight murmur, and he moved just a little, although I could tell how much he was hurting. So, as calmly as I could, I hushed him, and said quietly that he should lie still until he felt strong enough. He winced when I touched the side of his head, and so did I when my fingers came away coated in blood.

"Christine?" he whispered, as though he couldn't believe I was actually there.

"Yeah… it's me," I said, taking his long, thin hand in mine. He opened his eyes and looked at me, upside down. Looking down at him… seeing him so helpless… I suddenly began to cry quietly, my tears dripping down onto Erik's face.

"Christine…" he said again, as if my name was all he could speak now. I was too caught up in my sobs to reply, so I only squeezed his hand tightly to reassure him. When he squeezed it back, I managed to smile, until he reached up and touched my face, feeling the shape of it. He was making certain I was real, and not just a figment of his imagination.

"You're really here?" he asked after a pause. "I thought… you'd gone… with that boy."

Sniffing loudly, wiping my nose on the back of my sleeve, I shook my head. "I came back… I couldn't leave you like this."

He stared up at me, and once again that look of deep suspicion crossed his face. I just stared back… unable to think of what else to say. I felt as though I had run out of words after everything that had been said tonight, and the thought that Erik might still not believe me now… not that I would blame him. I had run, initially… but only out of numb disbelief and because I hadn't the strength to protest. But I was back now… didn't that prove something to him?

"Ah…" Erik was trying to sit up now. He was obviously in pain, but no amount of protests on my part could stop him, so I did my best to support him, only to receive distrustful looks once again. "I have to get away…" he said weakly. "If that boy calls…"

I nodded, understanding. I wasn't sure if Richard would have called the police instantly and sent them over here. I wanted to think he hadn't… that maybe he would at least give us time to get away. But it wasn't a risk I was prepared to take and so, I carefully took Erik's arm, helping him as he struggled to his feet, unsteady and near collapse. I put his arm around my shoulders, forcing him to put at least some of his weight onto me.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his confusion plain and edged with that familiar bitterness. He sounded so tired, both physically and emotionally. As if he were on the verge of giving up. But I wasn't about to let him do such a thing.

"I'm helping you," I said simply. "Which way are we going?"

"'We'," he echoed, like someone who, lost in a dream, was afraid to wake up and have the illusion shatter. I half wondered if he still believed he was dreaming all this… or hallucinating. Either way, he made a brief, somnolent gesture with his arm. "That way…"

I began to stumble in that direction. Our progress was slow and awkward… I was not very strong and Erik was very tall compared to me, but I was determined to get him somewhere safe. Inside my clothes hot sweat clung to my body, but I didn't stop for rest, urging him onwards as best I could.

"Why… are you… doing this?" he asked. He was breathing in short, sharp gasps, as was I, although he was also fighting to stay conscious at this point.

"I had to come back," I gasped quickly, hoping that conversation would at least help to keep him awake and moving.

"Couldn't have me… on your conscience… I suppose."

I winced, and in spite of myself, a little sob escaped my throat. Did he realise how awful it was for me to hear him say these things? It just made me realise that our reconciliation was far from complete. Erik still seemed only half convinced that I didn't hate him… let alone that I might care for him. It was hurtful to think that he believed I was only doing this so I wouldn't have a guilty conscience.

"That's not why I'm doing this," I told him breathlessly.

"Then why?" he asked again.

"Because I don't want you to die," I snapped more harshly than I had intended. But saying this out loud was, to me, like issuing a death sentence upon Erik, and I began crying again at the thought of him dying out here, and me being helpless to prevent it.

"It's what I… deserve," Erik said, with more than a hint of acrimony. "I'm surprised you don't… think so…"

Again, the feeling of anger rose up inside me at the combined assumption and accusation. Following quickly was that feeling of misery and the realisation that Richard's 'heroic' actions had only succeeded in ruining things. But I hastened to correct Erik, refusing to give in.

"I never wanted you to die, Erik," I said truthfully. There was a pause, one that begged to be filled, and finally I added: "I never even thought about wanting you to die. I didn't realise what Richard was going to do… if I had…"

"Oh… I'm sure… you would have warned me," Erik retorted, his weak voice still overloaded with sarcasm.

"Yes, I would have," I replied firmly. "I don't want you to die," I repeated again.

"Perhaps you should let me," he went on in a dreamy voice that scared me. "After everything I've done… I think it might be… a relief… for everyone…"

Determined not to give in to the same bitterness, I shook my head. "If you keep talking like that _I'll_ whack you over the head with a branch next." I was amazed but, in spite of the situation this truly weak attempt at humour actually helped. I heard the slightest of chuckles from Erik and a smile broke out on my own face, painful but still real and my heart soared as I realised that maybe this hadn't been all for nothing. My steps became stronger as I was spurred on by this thought, but I didn't kid myself that Erik would be able to keep this up for much longer. Maybe he had a concussion… I didn't know, I was no doctor. But that wound had looked serious, and it occurred to me how stupid it was to move someone with such a potentially serious injury. Not that we had any other choice.

We reached the edge of the woods, on the opposite side to where the school was, and I noticed a dirt track, probably used by farmers for tractors or Land Rovers maybe. On it was parked a small black car, and I leaned Erik against it as he gestured for me to get the keys out of his coat pocket. But when I tried to help him into the passenger seat, he resisted.

"You can't drive like this," I insisted.

He stared at me, his twisted, blood-smeared face expressing the deepest confusion. "Christine… you can't…"

"Yes I can," I told him firmly. "Maybe not legally yet," I added with a small laugh. "We'll just have to hope no one stops us for a little while."

I was about to go around to the drivers side when he seized my arm, nearly losing his balance as his supporting grip on the car door was lost. I stared up at him, and he stared back, disbelieve written on his face and, deep in his eyes, a strange conflict that I couldn't quite understand. Waiting for him to speak, I kept my expression soft and earnest, hoping to dispel whatever doubts he might still be having.

"You can't be serious," he murmured, again in that far-off voice.

"I am serious," I told him as steadily and suddenly I felt more certain and sure of myself than I had done in ages. Resolute… I gazed up at Erik, letting him see my determination in every aspect, and once again I saw his disbelief waver… then crumble completely as the reality began to take hold. It was a relief, in a way, to see him break like this… but also painful. I understood how it must go against everything he had believed ever since he was a child… to accept a reality such as this. Possibly, until he had met me, the idea of something like this happening had never entered his mind, except perhaps in some distant fantasy.

Well, that fantasy was a reality now…and I was determined to make him see it. Once again I began to urge him into the passenger seat…

"No."

Exasperated, I was fully prepared to try and manhandle him into the car at this point. "Erik, come on, we – "

"You're not coming with me."

Quite possibly nothing he could have said would have shocked me more than those words. He spoke them in a way that indicated that there was no argument… he had made up his mind. But those words left me hurt and confused. Didn't he want me to go with him? How did he expect me to let him go on his own when he could barely stand without assistance?

"No, I am…" I began, but he cut me off.

"I won't let you," he said and as I looked at him I saw the sincerity, the look of love in his eyes that I had almost thought I would never see again. But it was different this time. It wasn't that dark, possessive love he had shown me up until that moment. This was unconditional… unselfish. Now he was thinking only of me… and he wanted to send me back.

"You deserve to have your life…" he said, reaching up to stroke my cheek gently with his fingers. "You… you were right about everything. I should never have…" He paused and took a deep, shuddering breath. "Go back… go and live the life you were meant to."

I was torn. I wanted to scream, cry… a tiny part of me even considered doing as Erik said, leaving him and going back to my old life. But I stamped on this thought and killed it. Yes, I could go back… I could go back, maybe have an abortion to save myself from getting kicked out of school… move on and hopefully achieve the career I had dreamed of. There was only one problem. I didn't _want_ to go back. It had been different before… when Erik had kept me his prisoner… when he had threatened to kill people to keep me with him… when he had intended to carry me off by force. The difference was that this time, it was my choice. My own free choice.

"No," I said, in a firm voice that didn't really seem like my own at all. Like Erik's voice before, it left no room for argument… it would not even listen to any protests. It knew what it wanted. "I'm coming with you."

"Christine… you don't have to…"

I silenced him with a hand over his mouth. "I know I don't. But I _want_ to. I want to go with you."

"Listen to me…" he said, gripping my hand urgently.

"No! You listen!" I shouted, cutting him off and snatching my hand away angrily. "I've had to deal with people telling me what to do all my life. Well, I'm sick of it. I told you that before… you know how much I hate it. And you know what you said? You said I should think about what I want for a change. And I am… and what I want is to go with you."

But Erik was shaking his head again. "But what you said before… your future… you want that too…"

Flippantly I waved my hands at this reminder, dismissing it. "I know… I know I said that. And maybe I do want that stuff… but it's not what's most important to me, not anymore."

My words were shocking, almost as much to me as they were to Erik. I was saying things that, up until now, I hadn't realised I felt. But the moment the words were out of my mouth I knew they were true. And hey… maybe there was some way for me to have it all… to be with Erik and have my dream career. But now it was a matter of which was most important, and the answer was plain as sunlight to me.

"When we were together… I know I was happy. And maybe it was because I didn't realise how angry you could be sometimes… but I was still happy. And… I think we can have that again. I really do. I understand you so much more now, after the past few days… and I know we can work things out. I want us to work things out."

Erik was still unable to speak. Maybe he was too shocked. But I could see the tears that were coursing down his cheeks. My words were getting through to him now, finally, and it only made me all the more determined.

"Please..." I said, almost begging him now, taking the few steps towards him. "I want to love you again, Erik."

And with that, I balanced myself on the balls of my feet and kissed him, very, very softly on the mouth. It was only the smallest of kisses, nothing like some of the others we had shared in our time together. But it was the first real kiss since that day… the first without any lies, secrets or fears attached, and that seemed to make it far more powerful than anything else I had ever experienced.

When I drew away from him, his eyes were closed, and he was shaking all over with emotion. Once again I found myself wishing I could tell what he was thinking, but all I could do was wait for him to gather himself together enough to speak. And when he did, I was once again overcome by the beauty in his voice, and the strange, new child-like quality it possessed… like a boy looking for his way home.

"Is this really what you want?" he asked in a breathless whisper.

I nodded and, as if to further enforce my decision, I kissed him again, deeper this time. And, to my delight, he, nervously at first but with growing confidence, returned the kiss, until I was wrapped up in his arms so tightly it was hard to breath. But I relished the feeling, and the surge of security that it brought me. God, I had missed that feeling… and this was only the beginning of its revival. Somehow, I sensed deep down that it would only grow stronger as we went along.

As I helped Erik into the car, and then moved around to the drivers seat, I could feel his gaze, as I was always able to. There was still disbelief… and I wondered how long it might take him to realise that this was real. Smiling, I shook my head. No matter what he thought… I trusted in my decision and, as I drove off into the darkness, feeling Erik take my left hand and weave his long, cold fingers in mine, I told him that everything would be okay.

"Do you promise?" he asked softly.

"I promise".

* * *

I wasn't exactly sure how to round this chapter off. It was tricky... so I decided to use a theme that's kind of been present from the beginning (if you remember, Erik doesn't like promises... kind of like in the original book, hehe). I hope it works okay. And for anyone who's wondering how things turn out afterwards... the epilogue is coming, and that will hopefully tie up the loose ends. See you next time! 


	30. Epilogue

You have no idea how hard it was writing this epilogue. Yeah, I know it's short... but it is, as you can see, a diary entry. I thought this would be a good way to end it, but it was tricky writing it... trying to tie up loose ends etc. That, and I felt sad writing this, because it is the last chapter. I hope it's not a let-down in any way. Thank you everyone who ever reviewed... particularly the people who have been with me on this from the start. You kept me going... I just hope you're all happy with the final result.

* * *

Epilogue

_Diary: November 29th._

_It feels like ages since I last wrote in this thing. I just haven't found the time… then suddenly I got this urge to write down what's been happening. It's been over a month since I left school and everything elsebehind, but it feels like it's been longer. And so much has happened, I just had to write it down._

_So, Erik and I have been moving about quite a bit. Actually, we never stay in one place for much more than a week. It's weird, living out of a bag, but I'm trying to make it into a kind of adventure… like being on the run. I guess we are, in a way, although it's actually more because of Erik than me. He's so restless. Sometimes I think that knock on the head did a lot more damage than we first thought… but probably not. It worried me at first, especially when he refused to see a doctor, but he's fine, physically anyway. Emotionally... I guess he's still not sure of things. This probably isn't the ideal situation he had planned._

_Still, at least he didn't have to write all those letters explaining things to all the people I left behind. The one I wrote to my family was probably the hardest letter I've ever had to write in my life. I kept it simple, just explained that I'd left school because of the pressure from work and other things, and that I would go and stay with a friend for awhile. I spoke to my dad on the phone, briefly. He seemed more worried than anything, but hearing my voice seemed to calm him down a bit. He was sorry for all the pressure I had been put under and not making sure I was happy. I told him what I had planned for the future, and he was really understanding. I was surprised to get away with everything so easily. I think it was because they found out about the whole mess with Charlotte. It turned out to be a good excuse for leaving. Actually, her bullying probably saved me from a whole lot of trouble. I sent a letter to the school saying I left for personal reasons and a little while later I got an e-mail from Meg (e-mail's pretty much the only way I can stay in regular contact with anyone now), and she said the police aren't investigating Charlotte's poisoning anymore. The whole thing just kind of fell through. Meg said it was probably because everyone backed me up about how much she hated me… so I guess they decided she only accused me out of spite. That and it wasn't doing the school's image much good._

_So that was a relief anyway. I have no idea if people are still looking for me. I try not to watch the news on TV in case they are… and I try to keep in contact with the most important people. Except one, of course. _

_I haven't had any contact with Richard, for Erik's sake. At least I know he's okay now. I was worried for awhile that he'd be in trouble after I left. But Meg tells me he's doing okay, and he's not going to prison, thank god. I guess she tells him how I'm doing, which is fine. I still think about him a lot. Not in a romantic way… I just miss him like I miss lots of things I left behind me. I keep all that quiet though, because I don't regret what I've done… and I'd never want Erik to think that I did. There are still some things we can't talk about, and the past is one of them. So we talk about the future instead. I was surprised when Erik suggested that, after things have settled down again, I could go back to school, finish my exams, and then move on to university. He's obsessed with helping me fulfil my dream and making sure I'm happy. The idea gave me such a thrill… knowing that I didn't have to give up on my dream yet. It just made me all the more certain that I'd made the right choice. _

_But, obviously, I couldn't just charge straight on with these plans. There was something else to think about, something which made me understand even more that the "right choice" isn't always the easiest or nicest one. In the end, after a long talk, it wasn't that hard for me or Erik to decide what to do about the baby. I could see just from looking at him as he spoke that he wasn't prepared, emotionally, for it… and to be honest I wasn't either. So we made a decision about what was best and I don't regret it. Well, maybe a little... but I wouldn't exactly call it regret. More like a feeling of nostalgia. Sometimes I let myself imagine what it might have been like if we had decided to keep the baby and it doesn't seem that bad. Deep down a part of me feels inescapably miserable at the loss… guilty because part of the reason was because I wanted to lead my own life. Sometimes, when I think about it too much, I start to cry…_

_Still… I think we made the right choice for all our sakes. If you're not ready… you're not._

_Erik seemed to think so too. He worried a lot about how I felt. It's weird, seeing him this way. Sometimes he's like a different person… not in a bad way. Actually, it's quite sweet… maybe a little suffocating from time to time, but I don't mind so much. I don't even mind his mood swings. He still has them, and I still get a little scared. But I'm learning to cope. It's starting to become a sixth sense with me… knowing how Erik's feeling or if I've accidentally said the wrong thing. But I just change the subject or, if it looks like it could turn nasty, I leave the room and let him cool off for a bit. It doesn't bother me that he still behaves like this… it's a part of who he is. And when he's not angry, he goes back to being one of the kindest, gentlest people I know. _

_He actually suggested teaching me Italian, since I've got so much spare time these days. It's like he wants to make sure my time with him is not wasted. I'm not sure if this was the only reason… to give me something to do when we're not being musical. I like to think that he's planning on taking me back to Italy some day and maybe settling down. He hasn't said so, but I hope it does happen. Who knows… maybe I could go to an Italian university, if I learn enough of the language. Then we could live there permanently and I'd be able to see dad, Paula and Joseph again. Dad said I should come home, but I told him I was happier back here for now, but I would come home soon. I miss them so much… and it's hard not being able to communicate with them much. I can't wait to see them again. I know one day I'll have to explain things to them properly…I've told them I will do when I'm ready. Until then, they have to wait a little while._

_In the meantime, it's just me and Erik. And I'm actually quite happy about that. Happier than I've felt in a long time. We're still not quite on the same level as we once were… and maybe we never will be. Things are different now… but not in a bad way, I don't think. In fact, I believe that some day we'll be even happier than we ever were. Slowly but surely, Erik's getting better… he doesn't worry so much about things… about how happy I am. The more time I spend with him the more he realises I really do want to be with him. At first he was so cautious, like he was afraid of scaring me off… so this time it was me that had to lead things along a bit. I was nervous too… so we started off small. I'll take his hand at the table when we're eating, or kiss his forehead before leaving a room,and he'll look at me for a moment. I can't describe his look… love, hope and tenderness all rolled into one intense gaze… still withthat lingering hint of disbelief. But it's fading slowly, and one day it'll be gone._

_Sometimes I want to say "I love you" to him. The words will just threaten to burst out of my chest, and then I'll just want to cry, because it's true but I just can't bring myself to say it just yet. I do love him… and one day I'll tell him so again and be able to hear him say it back. I don't know why, but the thought of that scares me a little when I realise how extraordinary our relationship is. Sometimes I think I just want us to be an ordinary couple… and then I stop myself and say "what the hell does being ordinary matter?" And it doesn't… because, I think, when you love someone enough… enough to want to become a better person, and when you're willing to sacrifice everything… that kind of feeling can make even the most normal person into something else… something extraordinary._

_And how many people in the world can say they feel that way? Not many, I bet. And it makes me so grateful… to my family… to Meg… Richard._

_But most of all to Erik. _

_I wouldn't be who I am now if it weren't for him._

**"We are shaped and fashioned by what we love."**

_**Johann Wolfgang von Goethe**_

The End


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